Rookie
by yougonnapayforthatmango
Summary: Clarissa Fairchild has dreamt of angels, little ones ever since a family tragedy. But what she never expected was one to show up at her precinct, a badge just like her own shining on his hip. With the continuous events that link them together, there is no denying that they are tied to each other, and maybe even more than just mentally. Clace
1. Arresting Officer

"You're treating for dinner." Clary muttered as Simon pushed through the transparent door of the diner. Simon chuckled as he sat on the other side of the booth, turning his gaze to the dark haired beauty that was enjoying coffee.

"I'm pretty sure stalking is a crime these days. I could arrest you." Clary teased at the gawking nerd. He turned to her, hissing as he brought his index finger up to his lips, telling her to be quiet.

"Do you think she heard that?" Simon whispered to the red head. Clary turned back to the beauty, seeing no disruption in her sipping at what had become her regular choosing.

"Don't look now, but I think she's getting the manager." She said with a serious expression, hiding her lie with wide eyes and chewing her lip heavily. Simon turned a ghastly color as his head fell in his hands. "Kidding." She mumbled at the trusting friend. Simon's head snapped up and he shot Clary a look that could shatter the glass in the windows around them.

"You're horrible." He groaned.

"And you're in love. I think. Could be an obsession?" She pondered openly. Clary quieted when the blonde waitress came and took their order, her eyes lingering on Simon's after he told his routine cheesy joke. Clary wondered if her green eyes were as capturing as her blue ones as the waitress swayed her hips while she walked away.

"You have some nerve calling me out on my gawking when you can't keep your eyes off the waitresses ass." Simon chided. Clary looked back at him, her eyes squinted in annoyance.

"I wasn't looking at her ass." Clary argued, tapping her fingers against the fake wood of the booth. It was beginning to rain outside; small droplets of water slicing across the murky glass of the diner. The neon sign made some of the droplets appear to be spatter of blood, chilling the red head. The metal badge that was clipped to Clary's waist was digging into Clary's slight curves. Quickly, she took it out and hooked it on to the inner pocket of her brown leather jacket. Patting it securely with relief on her face.

The waitress was walking back with her the false default sway of her hips. Clary grimaced at her attempt to gain Simon's attention, knowing that her friend would never fall for someone he labeled as a one night stand.

"A cop eating a doughnut, how original." She smiled as she handed the pastry to Simon, her red lipstick appearing perfect to the Clary, who couldn't even apply mascara without making a fool of herself.

"Have to live up to the expectations!" Simon laughed, his hands relishing on the warmth of his coffee. The blonde waitress served Clary her coffee, of course accidentally spilling some on her silk button-up.

"Oops!" She chuckled, pulling out a plethora of napkins for the frustrated woman. Clary took them greedily, scrubbing at the burning liquid on her shirt. She prayed that the brown liquid didn't seep into her bra, as plain as it was. The dark haired beauty turned, looking at the booth along with the rest of the cafe to see what all the commotion was for.

Groaning, Clary excused herself to the bathroom to where she could try and salvage what was left of her favored shirt. She placed her hand on the faucet, twisting the nozzle cold to soothe her scalding skin. Applying some water to her teal colored shirt, Clary sighed in grief at the permanent stain. Cursing the day the waitress was hired, Clary trudged out of the restroom to what she least expected.

"Everybody put your hands up!" A males voice shouted. Turning around the wall that shielded both her and her vision, she saw a blue haired boy, gun swerving in the air, eyes wild as he turned to face the waitress Clary oh-so hated.

"The money! Gimme all your money!" His gun was pointed at her and she began to weep. The dark haired girl was inching closer to the door as he spoke, the thief not noticing. A small amount of change and, what Clary assumed was a couple hundred dollars, was thrown into the bag the thief had tossed to the blonde employee. He turned so suddenly, startling the dark haired beauty and aimed his gun right at her head. Before he could say anything, a tall figure charged at him, the thief falling down, money scattering.

When he slowed down, Clary could see that it was Simon, her partner, who had tackled the assailant, cuffing his hands behind his back. Some started to cry as the gun was kicked across the room, out of the madman's grasp. That was close, she thought, too close.

"How can I ever thank you?" The beauty sighed, her hand falling to her chest in relief. Simon pressed his brows together, flashing her a smolder.

"It's my job, but as a person I would like to ask you out." He grinned. The dark haired girl matched his expression, and Clary watched as she scribbled down her number for Simon to call later. The officer tucked the number into the pocket of his jeans, a smile on his face that made Clary confused as to what had just taken place.

"Robbers, what can you do?" Simon chuckled as he pushed the blue haired man inside the back of the cop car. Clary turned to him, sure that she was going to slap him had it not been for the fact that she was happy that he had finally gotten the girl's number.

"Right." Clary muttered.

"Hey, at least dinner was free!" Simon chuckled as Clary held a newspaper over her head to protect herself from the rain.

"Because dinner was ruined!" She argued.

"Tomato tomato." Simon shrugged as they walked down the parking lot to their cars. She hugged her jacket close to her, the rain diminishing the summer heat. Simon didn't seem to be affected by the weather and continued his walk with a cheesy grin on his face. Of course he would be happy, she thought, he got his dream girl.

"I'll see you tomorrow, kay?" Simon reassured. Clary nodded her head before swinging it through the opened door of her cheap car. She silently prayed that it would start smoothly, and it did. Muttering a thank you to the multitude of gods, she pulled out of the parking lot and drove to her apartment. Her fingers tapping away at the steering wheel.

When she got home, her answering machine let her know that someone had called. Pressing the number with her chewed fingernail, Clary listened for whoever had called her.

"Hi, Clary, it's Captain Carstairs. Just called to let you know that detective Herondale will be joining our force. Don't know much about him other than he's ex military with a great recommendation. You'll be showing him around tomorrow unless you want Lewis to introduce him to the wonders of stalking." A loud beep was made, signaling the end of the message. She furrowed her brows together, not wanting to show another new guy around.

"Who even is this guy?" Clary sighed as she made her way to her bed, alone as of recently. The bed was cold, as cold as the night when Clary laid herself to rest. She thought of the beautiful places she wanted to travel to, keeping her mind from drifting off to the ticking of her biological clock.

"Maybe he won't be so bad?" She shrugged before crashing into an intoxicating slumber.


	2. Have a Little Faith

Groaning, she awakened to a screaming alarm clock, her eyes burning from last night's make up. Clary's palm smashed against the button of her old fashioned alarm and swung her feet over the bed. The wooden floor was like ice against her tender feet. Her leather jacket was wrinkled from the downpour. Looking out the window, the New York sky was it's typical gray. Perfect weather for criminals, she thought as she shrugged the sticky jacket off.

The bathroom mirror showed what Clary had expected: smeared makeup and saliva crusted at the corner of her mouth. Her muscles ached from the adrenaline rush she'd received from last night. Seeing Simon tackle an armed robber wasn't something she wanted to get used to.

"Stupid." She thought towards Simon as she started her shower, the hot water steaming up the small apartment bathroom and turning it into a sauna. Her back muscles unclenched under the slight pressure of water that trickled down her skin. Grabbing the shampoo, Clary massaged the syrupy liquid into her hair until there were more suds than fiery curls.

Shaving was of slight annoyance to her as she nicked below her knee, drawing a fair amount of blood. Seeing the blood run down her leg caused a surge of memories to pound throughout her head. As much as she tried to forget her past, there was no way she could hide her grief as the water diluted the scarlet ribbons down her leg.

Taking a few deep breaths, Clary finished her shower; grabbing a towel to dry off while she wandered around for some clothes. Walking around her living room, she gave a satisfied smile when she found her TV remote. The buttons were worn severely by the fingertips of her hands.

The TV clicked on, and splayed across the screen was her partner, Simon. The idiot, Clary reminded herself. Next to him was the waitress and the woman interviewing the two of them in front of Taki's Diner.

"Ms. Whitewillow, I'm sure it was pretty terrifying to have a man point at you, was it not?" The reporter, a lavishly dressed blonde herself asked the younger woman. New York mist was frosting the tips of their hairs as they discussed what had occurred at the diner.

"Why, yes Helen, it was. I guess I was just lucky that I had my knight in shining armor to save me!" The waitress gushed. Simon paled at her words, and Clary guessed that he was hoping the beauty wasn't watching him.

"You've got quite the protection!" Helen Blackthorn nodded at Simon whose blush was stunning against his ghastly colored skin. Clary giggled before padding off to her room to change. Dropping the towel, Clary admired her toned physique in the long mirror that was situated in a corner. Her hands traced her way up to her flat stomach, and she furrowed her brows in frustration.

"Stop it," she scolded before sliding panties over her long legs, settling them around her tender skin before stretching her legs through a pair of jeans that she had grown too attached to. Her thanks were silent as she noticed there wasn't a coffee stain on her plain cotton bra. The shirt she chose was nothing special, just a floral top that had a frilly neckline. Clary's eyes lingered on her shoulder, gazing at the faint bullet wound. She slid her arms through her brown leather jacket, allowing it to settle before marching over to matching knee-high boots.

Her phone's cries alerted her that someone was calling. Looking down at it, she saw that her mother was calling. Clary answered, nervous that her mother had seen the morning new.

"Clary! Honey! Please tell me that you're okay!" Jocelyn shouted over the line. Clary pulled back the phone from her ear to prevent hearing damage from her mother's shrieking.

"Mom, I'm fine!" Clary interrupted. She heard her mother sigh heavily over the line in relief that her daughter was not injured; though Clary was positive she it would have been announced on the news had she been.

"You don't know how worried I was. With you already vulnerable, I thought something bad would have happened Honey." Clary bit her tongue at her mother's recollection. She didn't want to think about her mandatory visits to the department's shrink.

"I'm sorry I worried you Mom, but I'm fine." Clary said before hanging up. There was a slight amount of guilt in her chest as she returned to the bathroom where she was applying makeup. Her lipstick was a petal pink, looking lovely on her pale skin. Her coppery lashes were hidden with the darkness of her obsidian mascara. She looked brave, Clary thought as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her fiery locks were cascading down her shoulders and back like an eruption of scalding magma.

Brave

* * *

"Saw you on the news." Clary smirked at Simon, who had received several pats on the back from his fellow officers. His cheeks flushed crimson as he at his doughnut that most likely came from the gushing waitress.

"Let me enjoy my doughnut, fairchild." He groaned, licking the chocolate frosting from the corner of mouth.

"Clarissa!" She heard from behind her. Pivoting, she saw Captain Carstairs with a mischievous grin on his face. Clary could only guess that it was because of what her next assignment was.

"Captain." Clary nodded sternly. He shook his head at the firm line of her mouth before he began speaking, his accent tainting his words.

"Did you get my message last night?" He asked her.

"I did." She nodded again.

"Oh good! Then I guess it's up to me to introduce you to detective Herondale!" The captain gushed. She raised her brow at him, truly concerned with his behavior before she heard the sound of shoes crossing over the tile floor of the precinct. She turned around and was struck in awe at the man that towered over her, though Clary wasn't tall to begin with.

He was beautiful. That's what made her want to recoil from his outstretched hand. His eyes were of a liquid gold, darkening when he laid his eyes on her. The muscles on his outstretched arm wrapped around him lick a wire, live as the flexed for her when she shook his calloused hand; stretching his deliciously tan skin. His hair blossomed in soft waves of gold, kissing the middle of his forehead. His mouth quirked upward in a crooked grin, numbing Clary from any feeling other than familiarity that she held strangely toward him.

"Jace Herondale." He said smoothly, and Clary noticed he had a chip on one of his teeth, making him seem more human and less of an angel to her.

"Clarissa Fairchild, though I prefer you call me Clary." She spoke with a false smile. He smiled back at her, confusing Clary as to why he seemed to be enjoying their brief introduction to each other.

"Clary here is going to show you around." Captain said, patting her on the back before leaving. She her Simon chuckled before choking on his doughnut.

"Hope you didn't expect much, because I'm fairly boring." She chuckled emptily. Jace held his smile, making her heart beat irregularly.

"Have a little faith. I find that it helps."


	3. Domestic Dispute

They were just riding in the police cruiser, not minding much as she showed Jace the parts of town that were more than likely to have hostility towards law enforcement. He nodded along, and she knew he wasn't paying much attention to the tour. Clary could sense him staring at her, but what law enforcement would take her eyes off the road?

She was right not to take her eyes off the road, because soon enough, someone threw themselves in the way of the car, nearly causing a crash. Clary pressed heavily on the horn of the car, flashing an angry face at the small child in the road. She wasn't angry at her though, more at the parents.

"Where's your mom sweetheart?" She asked the timid girl. Her skin was tan, though Clary presumed it was through heritage that the girl earned it from.

"Daddy's hurting her! Make him stop!" The girl sobbed. Clary turned to Jace, who, though was sitting in the car, could hear everything. Jace slid in front of the wheel, driving the car to a parking spot where they both began to dash into the apartment building, child in hand.

"Can you show us where you live sweetheart?" Clary asked the child who was sobbing profusely.

"The third floor." The child croaked. Jace put his hand to his gun, holding it to his waist as the sprinted up the numerous building stairs. Child weeping in her ears, Clary was drawn back to a time where this was supposed to be her future, her life after she had met her one true love. But he was gone, and so was the child they cared so dearly for.

When they reached the third floor, Clary could hear screaming from the cracked door in the middle of the floor. Dust was clinging to the air, giving anyone who traveled an allergy annoyance.

"Mommy!" The child cried out when she heard her mother's screams for help. Clary set her down, though against the girl's wishes.

"Do you have any friends that live around here, in this building sweetheart?" She asked quickly. The little girl nodded her head, nears spraying at the movement. "Can you go there for a bit until Mommy's all patched up?"

"Yes." She squeaked, turning and then dashing towards the elevator. Clary and Jace dashed in the rustic apartment, vase shattered and the plaid fabrics of the couch were torn.

"Police!" Clary screeched at her entrance.

"Jordan! Stop!" A woman screamed. Both officers dashed towards the room they came from, seeing an uncomfortable looking mattress placed on the wooden floor of the small bedroom. The man, Jordan, had the woman's light brown curls tangled between his clenched fist. Her honey colored skin was bruised a nasty violet as she struggled against her partner. Clary saw something in Jace click as he aimed his weapon at the abusive man.

"Let her go, or by the Angel I shoot you right here!" He growled at Jordan. The man smiled, as if Jace had shared a dirty secret with him, and lifted the hand that was pressed against the woman's back, revealing a shining pistol; aiming in at her head.

"Drop the weapon!" Clary roared at him. Jordan kept smiling, the gun pressing painfully into the woman's head as moments passed.

"Everyone's trying to keep us apart." He chuckled emptily. "First it's Maia's parents, then it's her sister, then, finally it's you guys. Well, I won't let you rip my family apart." Suddenly, his gun was pointed at Clary and a flood of memories poured through her skull. She froze, a deer in headlights.

"No!" Jace yelled, too late as the gun fired, shooting her directly in the thigh. Jace aimed his gun back at the man, but Jordan already did it for him as he put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. His brains painted the yellowish walls an engrossing crimson.

"Jace," Clary groaned, clutching around her wounded thigh as she collapsed. Maia was screaming, and there was sirens in the air as her world shifted. It felt as if someone had… well, shot her. Clary had been shot before, and just like before the pain roamed throughout her body as if it were a fire spreading to burn out every cell she possessed. The angelic looking rookie leaned over her, examining her face, tapping her cheek to keep her from falling asleep.

"Stay with me Clary! A bus in on the way!" Jace was pleading with her to stay with him, and she felt that she'd be happy to oblige, though her mind swirled in beautiful colors of amber and bronze as she tried to remain conscious. She thought of the child that she'd finally get to meet again. The instant bond that would overtake her. As time passed, Clary felt her blood seep into the back of her shirt, causing her to shiver.

In another moment, the pain doubled, finally winning the fight of consciousness, her eyes shutting heavily.


	4. Hell

There was a loud snoring next to Clary when she woke up. Someones bare back was facing her. She eyed the familiar birthmarks as if they were a constellation in the New York sky. His muscles contracted as he breathed deeply, softly as he slept on the bed that she had purchased from a closing store. Black hair stood out against his ivory skin. Around his neck was a silver chain she had given him, their promise ring from their teenage years dangling loosely at his odd angle.

She thought his snore was annoying, but didn't care because she loved him madly, beyond any words of her time, or even distant future. Clary smiled against his chest, pressing a soft, wet kiss against his warm back as he slumbered. It seemed as if it had been so long since they'd done this, but that didn't seem wrong, as they had done this every night. And still, she felt as if she were swimming throughout miracles.

Clary breathed in the familiar smell of peppermint and after shave as she lay next to him. The small weight of a ring danced across her mind, and she brought her left hand up, smiling at the silver band with emeralds encrusted in it, passed down from his family line, the emeralds stood for each wife that had barred the ring. He told her that when he looked into her eyes the first time he met her, that the ring was, and always would be hers. There was displaced sadness as she gazed at the ancient ring, but she didn't know why she felt such an emotion when she was tranquil.

The white sheets squeaked under her as she moved her legs, switching her position to where she was even closer to him, wrapping her arms around the much larger being. He groaned in his sleep, but did not awaken, his head burying even deeper into the egg shell colored pillow.

She was slightly startled by the noise that came from the monitor. It sounded like gurgling, and Clary bounded out of her comfort at speeds only a worried mother might have. She didn't care about how cold the wooden floor felt against her feet she sprinted to the room she knew the noise was coming from.

Clary dashed to the bassinet when it came into view, her head leering over it, and letting out a relaxed breath when she saw that her daughter was only in a playful mood, not choking. Her dimpled legs were bent as she pulled her feet up with her chubby pink hands. There was a small pool of drool on Beth's chin, and Clary didn't grimace as she would have before when she wiped it with the sleeve of her teal button up that she had worn to sleep. Ringlets of red hair gathered together at the sweaty base of her neck, though she didn't complain in the usual wine that she let out when she was uncomfortable.

Beth's butterfly blanket was wrinkled around her, kicked off when she woke up. Five months ago, Clary would have been screaming, blaming her husband as she pushed out their daughter. Now, she would have gone through the pain all over again if it meant having her little playfully babbling before her. The nightgown with the ice queen, though Clary forgot her name, looked cute on her daughter. Even better when she didn't have remains of last nights dinner in her curls.

Clary marveled at how much her daughter looked like her, and even her father in the shape of her eyes and full pink lips. Beth cooed up at her mother, spit making the familiar gurgling sound as it bubbled in her small throat. Seeing as she was in a playful mood, Clary made a silly face at her daughter, eliciting a long string of giggles from Beth.

"How's my sweetheart?" Clary cooed down at Beth while she recovered from her laughing streak. Her dark brown eyes were wide as she listened to her mother, her little foot dropping in concentration on the shapes Clary's mouth made.

"I see," Clary chuckled. "Well, if you can keep a secret, I think you'll become a big sister soon." She revealed to the quiet five month old. Clary brought her finger down to Beth, playing with her soft, small hands as she wondered what her baby was thinking.

"Not much to go on." She sighed. Behind her, Clary heard the padding of feet, and did not worry, for there was no way her husband could have heard her from their room.

"How long have you been up?" Sebastian asked with a smirk. He held his hand behind his back, and Clary assumed he was scratching at the firm muscles.

"Twenty minutes, maybe?" She pondered to him. He nodded, and then her suspicion started to grow as her daughter put Clary's index finger between her sopping gums.

Teething, another joy of parenting.

"What are you smiling about?" Clary asked with a smile, though her coppery lashes were lowered in a squint. Behind him, Sebastian pulled out a white, blue outlined monitor that matched the one next to Beth's crib.

"Is it true?" He could not hide his prideful grin as he asked. Sebastian dark eyes were glittering with hope, and when Clary nodded, he sprinted across the soft carpet and hugged her closely. She let out a laugh as he praised her for choosing him over the endless line of men that would have been a better suitor for her.

In her ears, she heard a soft beep. Clary dismissed it, but when it grew louder as the moments passed, she pulled back from Sebastian with a raised brow.

"Are you making something in the oven?" She asked her confused husband. He shook his head slowly, and she looked around her, seeing if one of Beth's toys had gone off. When she didn't find anything, Clary walked back to her husband with suspicion growing where it had receded.

"Why do you ask?" Sebastian wondered.

"I keep hearing this beeping…" She expressed. He shrugged at her, and then the noise got even weirder as she heard heavy sighs around her ears. It sounded as if someone was breathing down her back.

_"Wake up, Clary. Please wake up."_ She heard a soft voice plead. Some part of her recognized the voice, but Clary hand't known where she'd heard it before. The beeping was becoming loud enough to shatter glass, and when Clary looked to ask Sebastian what the noise was for a second time, he was gone.

* * *

Her eyes opened heavily, as if they had been taped shut. The fluorescent light above her was bearing down on her headache. Pain thrummed in her thigh as the seconds ticked by loudly on the wall clock. Her arms felt thick, as if her blood was laced with lead. There was so much white in the room, it seemed as if her ivory skin was a stain on it's perfect pigment. The stench of sanitizer filled her nostrils, and when she inhaled, she could feel plastic pressing into her nose.

Crouched next to the bed, on a white chair was an angel, who she thought belonged in this pearl, painful heaven. When she tried to speak, she found that nails were clawing at the inside of her throat. Clary gagged, applying moisture to the dry interior. The angel lifted his head, dark shadows under his eyes. She wanted to ask him where her daughter was, where she could finally reunite with her after what seemed like an eternity.

"Thank the angel." He groaned, holding her ice hand in his fiery palm. With her throat badly marred by dehydration, she croaked out the only thing she could.

"Beth?" She coughed out. The angel sent a confused expression her way and then Clary knew that this wasn't heaven.

This was hell.

* * *

**Hopefully this could give you a snippet of Clary's past. I don't know why, but I envisioned the song Cigarette Daydream by Cage the Elephant playing in the first part. The last part I thought that Afraid by The Neighbourhood would be a good fit.**

**Thoughts?**


	5. Barrel Of A Gun

Talking.

That's all everyone was doing around her was just talking, and yet she could not hear a single one of them. Each mouth moving, speaking something of slim importance to her as she sat in the hospital. The doctors all looked the same, the nurses all cared the copy of an original pity when they looked at Clary.

She had been here before, but the bullet wound was placed somewhere else, and there was a different man waiting for her when she woke up. The last time Clary woke up, it was to a smooth stomach, and empty arms. Her husband sat on the hospital couch, weeping, but to her it was just talking as silent tears slid down her bruised cheeks. For so long had she blamed herself for what had happened to her beautiful family. Everyone told her that it hadn't been, but again, they were just talking.

Her mother looked as worried as she had been before but when she observed Clary's health, this time she sighed in what little relief was to be expected.

Was this her hell? To have everyone ignore what had happened to her and instead treat her as if nothing happened when all. Her world came crashing down at the barrel of a gun, had everyone forgotten that? Could they forget her innocent Beth and the little nudger she had kicking away at her insides? Clary thought that her own body should have protected him at least, but it was her own body that had killed her unborn child. She didn't know if Sebastian blamed her, or if he showed any emotion at all when they buried their children in the decorated graves of the small New York cemetery.

Captain Carstairs had flowers in his hands when he came into her chilling hospital room. Jace took them from him, and Simon sent the angel boy a scowl as he cupped Clary's hand with tenderness. Jace's hand was as warm as it had been when she first shook it, Clary thought.

She didn't know why the Rookie was still here, after all they had both known each other for a slim amount of time. His amber eyes were dark as he saw the injury on her thigh, and ever darker when the doctor let her past bullet wound slip. When Simon left, Jace still lingered, looking nervous before talking to her.

"Can I show you something?" Jace asked her. She hesitantly nodded, swallowing heavy when he brought his hand to her shoulder, pushing aside her gown to reveal her wound again. His face reddened, and Clary was about to ask him why he did such a thing when his hand unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt, allowing her to see what he intended her to, a wound as identical to hers as if he had copied it.

"What's that?" She whispered at the splattered star that glowed on his shoulder.

"A few years back, I got cocky, now I'm here," Jace began. Clary was surprised she could actually hear him talk, even though his story of a young man was long a detailing. "I don't know what your past is, and I'm not sure I want to know, but just putting yourself in the line of fire, it's downright suicidal. You could have gotten killed!" He scolded her. Tears once again slid their way down her face, and Jace automatically reached to wipe them away.

"No one wants me here anyway." She muttered. "They all see me as a charity case. Don't you ever get sick of the goddamn pity they flash you when you talk about your injury?" Clary pointed at his shoulder, wincing at the weakness of her arm. "I'm alone here, stuck to burn with my life choices." His eyes grew wide at her words, and Clary worried he'd start to see her with pity as everyone else did.

"You're not alone. No one's ever alone." Jace corrected her with a hoarse voice, making her wonder if there was some sensitivity he had with the subject.

"Oh really, then who is it that doesn't look at me like I'm the woman who survived after her entire family had been slaughtered, just trying to imagine how she gets through each day without throwing up and crying her eyes bloody?" She snapped.

"Your past doesn't define you," He said, sliding his hand over hers. Her eyes focused on the looseness of his shirt, her mouth dry as she stared at the flexing muscles. Her life had come crashing down at the barrel of a gun, and perhaps, it would begin with one too.


	6. Laughter

"Bills… great." Clary muttered at her apartment door, grimacing at the white envelopes. There were other things waiting for her too, probably from those who lived in the near by apartments. Her eyes focused on a package of M&amp;Ms, and quickly picked it up with a devious smile on her face.

"Are you serious, you haven't even been out of the hospital for a day and you're going to eat _that?_" Jonathan asked her. She sent her brother a shoulder shrug, not caring about his criticism before reaching into her pocket for the cold keys that belonged in the door.

"I don't say that when you bring a girl home." Clary argued, shoving the keys forward, and smiling that her door didn't jam when she twisted it open. If the scene in front of her door wasn't enough, there were 'get well soon' balloons blocking the white ceiling, and a multitude of casseroles covering her kitchen counters. Letters of worry were shoved into vases that carried flowers that ranged from cheap to expensive.

"Geez, any more gifts to give me?" She spoke to her apartment.

"One more…" Jonathan groaned from behind her, and out sprinted Jace, flowers and advil in his large hands. Her mouth hung in shock that a man that she hadn't known long enough was in her apartment.

"What are you doing here?" Clary asked, not hiding the fear in her voice. Jace looked confused as to why she was worried.

"I figured since you got shot while I was under your supervision, I could help you out around the house until you recovered?" She squinted at him, and heard her brother bark out a laugh as he smacked her on the back.

"Jem thought it was a good idea." Jonathan grimaced. Clary shook her head, her eyes widening and promising herself that she would call Captain the moment she was alone, which she would be after she got the angel boy out of her house.

"He didn't think that you, my brother, could watch me?" She gawked at Jonathan.

"Said that I would be out too much to relieve you of any duties." Jonathan explained. Clary nodded absentmindedly as she tossed her bills on the TV stand and ripped open her package of M&amp;Ms while resting one of her crutches against her. Moments of awkward silence filled the air before her brother spoke up again.

"I guess I better get leaving, wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." Jonathan winked at Clary, who desperately wanted her brother to stay with her. When she turned back to Jace, he waved his hand at her with a pressured smile on his face. The smile numbed her enough to make her drop her candy, small balls of color scattering across the wooden floor of her apartment.

"I'll get that!" Jace said, shoving her aside so he could scoop up the chocolate. "I picked up your prescription. Lady at the store said to take one when your thigh hurts, and that should you ever overdose, call the paramedics." Jace added with a grim expression. Did he really think that she would commit suicide? She had been dealing with the loss of her family for a couple of years now, she was finally moving on.

"How long are you staying with me?" Clary blurted. Jace looked almost hurt by her question, but she didn't see why he specifically had to stay with her. "Don't you have a wife, family, dog to get back to?" She asked in a more softer tone.

"Nope, schedule is free since I moved back to New York with my family. I live with my brother. I think he was a little eager for me to spend my time do something that isn't sulking. Really dulls the mood when he's with his boyfriend." Jace said with a entertained smirk.

"Seeing as you're going to be here awhile, I'm going to get in the shower and wash the hospital off of me. Help yourself to a beer in the fridge." Clary shrugged before using her crutches to hobble off to the small bathroom. She had to use precaution when washing around her wound, careful not to rip out her stitches. It felt nice as she massaged irritation of her head with shampoo and conditioner. She watched the steam rise from the shower, absorbing into the damp ceiling, and Clary wished that it could have been possible for her to do such a thing.

When she pulled back the shower curtains, her cheeks were red and her face was pale. Her face being lightened, it was easier for Clary to see the dust of freckles across her nose. Clary was shocked at the pile of clothes that sat on her bathroom sink. The thought of Jace digging around in her drawer, rummaging through underwear and silk tops unnerved her. She would have to talk about it later.

He had set out a pair of black cotton sweats and a white long sleeve shirt that clung to her toned muscles. Clary shivered as her bare feet reached out toward her clothes, and was grateful that he included thick blue socks for her. Normally, she would wear them when she went out for a jog in the chilling New York parks, but Clary allowed herself to wear them in the cold apartment.

Shoving open the bathroom door, she reached for her crutches and began her walk to the kitchen where Jace most likely was. The smells of various spices and eggs seeped into her nostrils, and her eyes almost watered at the past memory. She half expected to see Sebastian leaning over the stove as he served her breakfast, Beth giggling in her high chair as her father made silly faces.

Jace's head popped up when he heard her footsteps, smiling as eggs sizzled in a pan he had found in her cabinets. Clary's stomach growled in the quiet atmosphere making her blush and him chuckle.

"Omelets are almost done." He grinned. Clary limped her way to a chair situated by her small table, and watched his back muscles tense and relax as he flipped the large mesh of egg. Jace's skills appeared exceptional, as Clary couldn't even make a proper supper without Sebastian laughing at her.

"Someone called you," Jace mentioned as he finished up their breakfast.

"That is to be expected when someone hears you've been shot." She replied with stupidity to her tone. Jace shook his head, his neck muscles tensing and his golden locks quivering.

"Do you know someone named Elodie?" He asked her. Clary's breath hitched as she heard of her ex-husband's aunt's name. The last time Elodie had called, it was to say that Sebastian had bitten the barrel of a gun, the result of losing everything he'd ever come to love. She hadn't actually seen her since the devastation of Clary's family, and the silent funeral that many attended in her nephews honor.

"She - She called?" She asked Jace. He nodded, not turning to her as he reached for plates that she had stored away.

"Yeah, said to talk to her if you needed anything." Clary's fingers shook, and she bit down her lower lip to calm her panic. Noticing the silence, he turned around to see her taking in deep breaths, her nostrils flaring as she concentrated on her beating heart. "Clary?" He asked, and she nodded slowly. He took long steps to her, and put his hand on her back in a soothing manner. "Tell me what you need." He whispered to her.

"W-water," She stuttered. Jace raced behind her and brought forth a clear glass of what she had asked for. He also brought a cool rag, helping her burning face and neck.

"Long breaths, Clary." Jace soothed, pressing the glass to her lips. She drank the water at an agonizingly slow pace, her heart slowing down to an acceptable rate. She covered his hand with hers, taking control of the rag. When she was able to breath out of her mouth successfully, he looked at her with worried eyes.

"How-how did you know what to do?" She whispered to him, where he sat across from her at the short table.

"You forget I was in the military? PTSD." Jace answered. Clary nodded, focusing on his face to prevent another attack. "You still hungry?" He asked after a moment of silence. As if her stomach could hear him, it growled in response. He chuckled, but kept his eye on her when he brought the plate of mouth-watering omelets.

"You're a great cook," She mumbled to him, food being ground up in her small mouth.

"Well, when you live with a sister that can barely make cereal without somehow burning it, you have to improvise." He explained with a low chuckle. Clary was surprised to find that she actually laughed along with him.

The last person that made her laugh had his brains sprayed all over his small living room walls.


	7. Macaroni

She heard giggling above her, and reached out, eyes closed, and tried brushed her fingers against her daughters wild curls. Clary's back no longer hurt, and this confused her as to that it had every time she slept on it. The many perks of being pregnant, she sighed mentally. Clary couldn't remember Sebastian taking Beth to bed, and didn't really care much, as her daughter wasn't in a crank mood. The bed around her was cold however, and she didn't want Beth to catch an illness, as worried of a mother as she was.

"Sebastian, I think you should turn the heater up, it's cold." Clary groaned, feeling the chill of her bed. When no reply came, she brushed her hands out, feeling nothing. Finally, she opened her eyes with an annoyed huff, only to find that she was in her apartment, alone, two years later.

After her family was long gone.

"Oh…" Clary whispered out loud, her voice echoing in her empty room. The cold bed now felt as if she'd get frostbite if she laid in it for another second. Her legs sprung out, and she groaned as she felt the bullet wound sting. She reached for the crutches, and thought that maybe she didn't need them, as her wound was stitched and healing.

"Slowly, Fairchild." Clary breathed, her feet pressing against the wooden boards with a squeak. Seeing as she had regained some strength, she pulled a hail mary by propelling her back straight, standing up.

At first, her muscles didn't ache, and a smile blossomed on her face. She could tell Jace to leave, she could go to work and pretend like it was no big deal. She could calm her mother, and finally, _finally_, escape the damn apartment that had haunted her for two years too long.

Then, reality hit her, hard.

Her legs swayed back in forth like a screen door in a hurricane. Clary's hand flew to the mattress, and when it was too far out of reach, fear tightened in her chest. The floor boards appeared closer, and in a panic, she reached for anything in her circumference. Clary's fingertips grazed a glass of water on her nightstand, knocking it over, falling alongside her with a shatter.

She flipped herself on her back, shivering as cold water ran under her tense muscles. Moments passed before someone flung her bedroom door open. Jace's worried face came into view, and she saw him bite his tongue to keep from laughing at her frustrated face. Clary had seen Beth make this face several times, and her frustrated face grew helpless as she reached out for him.

"Help me up before I recover and kick your ass." She growled. He spread his arms, scooping her up and was about to set her on her bed.

"No - _wait_!" Clary cried out. "Damnit." She sighed, her wet body soaking the bed. Jace turned, and looking at the graying sheets, he picked her up again and brought her to her bathroom, placing Clary on the marble sink.

"Any request for clothing?" He asked.

"Make sure it isn't wet." Clary grumbled, her arms folded in anger as he turned to leave her. She wondered where he slept, seeing as her spare bedroom was empty, devoid of any evidence of its previous residence.

Not much had happened yesterday, they had breakfast, Clary visited a very worried mother for most of the day, and Jace said that he'd see his brother; to call her when she needed to be picked up. When it was the late evening, Jace had served her what he called a 'TV dinner,' and she excused herself to her bedroom.

"Back, they aren't wet." He chimed in through the doorway. Jace handed her a jeans and a salmon button up.

"Can you actually give me a different shirt?" Jace looked confused at the request, as he saw nothing wrong with the shirt. "Please?" She begged him. Clary should have warned him of the memories the salmon fabric held. It was originally maternity wear, one of the few shirts she actually purchased with her second child.

"Uh, here." He said, coming back with a shirt that declared her a runner in a New York 5K. She took it without protest, and he slid her crutches next to the sink. "Do you need any help with…" Jace's face flushed pink as he nodded at the pile of clothing. Clary shrugged at him, straightening her legs out for him to pull on the sweats. She braced her hands on the marble, prepared for him to pull.

"What are you waiting for?" Clary asked him. She heard him swallow thickly, clearing his throat as he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He gave a gentle tug, her dark sweats falling passed her red boy short underwear that she had purchased from the mall. Whether it was intention or not, his eyes failed to remain on her sweats, and instead skimmed up her long ivory legs. A short moment later, her sweats were off and she was pulling her pants up her legs in a sitting position. Clary found it difficult to get them up to her waist and coughed at Jace to help out.

"Right, sorry." He said, lifting her small wait and finally her jeans slid on.

"You can go now," She said. Jace interrupted her before she could finish the sentence.

"How can I go when you can't even walk? When _you_ think you _can_ after a few days of healing?" Clary's eyes widened as she realized he was fighting for her to let him stay.

"I meant that as in I didn't need help putting on the shirt." She whispered.

"Oh, right." Jace sighed in relief and stupidity. He walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door to give her privacy, though she didn't think he'd ever go in. She pulled the shirt on over her head and swung the crutches under her arms, no longer overestimating her healing legs.

When she finally made it to the kitchen, her eyes darted to the front door, checking to see if it was locked. Never again would she let herself make that mistake again.

"Glad to see you wearing them." Jace nodded towards the crutches. She rolled her eyes, limping to the fridge to see what she had in stock. Surprise overtook her as she saw that there was a fresh stock of vegetables and fruit, along with few pleasures such as ice cream and pudding.

"You went grocery shopping?" She asked. Jace appeared guilty as he searched for an answer that couldn't make its way to the tip of his tongue. "You didn't have to do that." Clary said gently. She saw a pile of blankets on her couch, and smiled to herself. "You're already finding your way around the house?"

"Uh, yeah. Not that big really, only had to go to the hallway closet." He explained with hesitation.

"I don't mind, actually. Seeing as you're not going to leave until I'm fully healed." She shrugged, pulling out a box of strawberries. A few minutes passed before Jace coughed at her, gesturing towards the almost empty plastic box.

"What?" She asked him.

"You seem to like strawberries." He smirked, as if satisfied he was getting to know her. Clary chucked the now empty box in the trash bin, it nearly falling over, making her heart skip a beat in mild frustration.

"My mother said if I kept eating them, my head would turn redder, so I didn't eat them throughout my childhood. I see it as making up for lost time." She clarified. Jace laughed at her story.

"I had the same problem with macaroni, except I _wanted_ my hair to look as if it was made of gold. I faintly remember it being the theme of my tenth birthday." Jace grinned to himself, and she wanted to hear more about the memory.


	8. Past

"Really? A bath in Macaroni?" Clary asked Jace in amazement. He hesitated before nodding. She bit her tongue, almost hard enough to draw in blood, trying not to laugh. Jace ran a hand through his hair, embarrassment clear on his face.

"It's okay to laugh." He shrugged, his ears as pink as her lipstick. She shook her head heavily, deliberating if laughing at him meant that he'd make his stay more… tortuous.

"No…" Clary said, her head still shaking. Jace looked at her, then down at his watch, counting the seconds the passed until she couldn't help but snort heavily. Jace let out an expected sigh, throwing his hands up in the air while she clutched her stomach, gasping for air.

"I'm sorry!" She cried out, clutching her stomach in pain. Jace's eyes lidded, apparently angry that he'd told her of the birthday gift from his father. Before she could further apologize for his humiliation, the phone rang.

"I'll get it." Jace grumbled, plopping himself from the couch he was seated at and raced to the phone before she could have a chance to begin her seige.

"Yes, Herondale residence, this is Master Jace, to whom may I be speaking to?" Jace winked at Clary, who had her mouth open at his introduction.

"No, she didn't get lucky Captain." Jace chuckled. It was Clary's turn to be embarrassed, her cheeks reddening at her captain's assumption. Jace's amusement soon dwindled as he spoke to the captain. Clary wanted to grab the receiver from his hand, but he was far too strong to put up a struggle. When the conversation finished, Jace looked as if he could be sick.

"What?" Clary whispered. Jace shook his golden locks, pointing at the TV.

"Jem wants us to turn on the news." He said before beginning his journey to the couch. His hands found the remote, and he began to channel surf blindly. She hobbled over alongside him, plucking the remote from his hands; seeing as his was having trouble changing the channels.

"Why'd you do that for?" Jace whined. Clary shrugged turning the channels till she saw the news. As usual, Helen was on the screen, her lovely blonde hair sparkling in the New York rain. Despite his annoyance, Jace leaned in, listening to what the reporter was saying.

" … And it was here," Helen pointed to the cheap apartments. "That our beloved New York City detective Clarissa Fairchild was shot in the thigh by Jordan Kyle. A man who'd been charged with aggravated assault, though they were dropped by his wife, Maia Kyle, seeing as they both had a child to raise." Clary wondered, hoped that what she'd said was all Helen was going to cover.

"But the shootings don't stop there, it was two years ago that yet another madman, broke into the then pregnant twenty-four year old's apartment, and brutally assaulted her and her eleven month old child." She thought she could see Jace's arms tense, but wasn't sure as tears shielded her vision. "Healing in the hospital, the young detective suffered a miscarriage, after learning her daughter was pronounced dead at the scene. Sebastian Verlac, the detective's then husband, committed suicide after his divorce and attendance to his children's funeral-"

The TV cut off. But Clary didn't care, she couldn't see anyway. She could only feel, and what she felt was strong arms holding her as she silently wept her past life. Her daughter and unborn child were dead, and the man she thought she loved had committed suicide. All in the duration of a month.

* * *

**This is more of a filler chapter to reveal Clary's past. **

**Thoughts?**


	9. Anniversary

She woke up on the couch, Jace's arms wrapped around her like a vise, a warm, squishy vise. Clary had never seen him while he slept, and he looked angelic without the constant stress that was evident on his face. She used her small thumb to smooth out his forehead, and he stirred but never awakened. The TV was off, and her face felt swollen; tasting salty when she licked her lips.

Carefully, she pulled his strong arms off of her. Jace slumped forward, his head falling on a pillow where he then situated himself until he was comfortable. Clary stared at him for a long minute until she was sure he wouldn't awaken when she sat up from the couch. When she was comfortable with his soft snoring, she lifted herself; a squeak coming from the old couch. Clary steadied herself with the arm of the sofa, making sure she had her balance.

The distance between her and the phone didn't seem long to someone who didn't have a bullet wound in their thigh. To her, the distance surmounted every time she blinked or turned away to check on Jace. Doing her best at calculating, she guessed it would take at least _four _good steps to reach the wall phone. First, she'd have to take the three large steps to reach the wall, then another to turn and step towards the receiver.

Taking the largest breath of air, as if it could somehow fuel her wounded leg, Clary slid her right foot forward. A smile crept up her face when the leg did not wobble, but of course this was not the wounded leg.

The smile faded.

She huffed, breathing a fiery curl out of her face so that she could concentrate on her goal: the phone. Clary's left leg slid alongside the right one, and yet another smile perched on her face. She had to remind herself not to cry out in amazement when she used her hands to push herself off of the couch completely. Now it was just her and gravity, and a wounded thigh.

Carefully, she lifted her arms out as if she were an airplane, steadying herself when she extended her right leg forward. "Careful fairchild." Clary hissed, similar to what she'd done when she first tried to walk. This time, there was a greater confidence to her steps as her right leg stuck to the wooden floor. She'd just have to slide her left leg alongside it so that she could get to the wall.

Something behind her shifted, and like a fool, she flipped herself to face Jace, who was sitting up on the couch, staring at her with a worried expression and wide golden eyes. His feet were perched over the couch, ready to help her when she would in fact need it. It seemed as if the world shifted when he looked at her like this, and then her feet came sliding beneath her.

"Jace!" Clary squealed, and he raced out of his, _her _seat. Clary saw everything at an angle while she was falling, and she didn't know how close she was to the floor as she had just begun to fall. Figuring she'd fall, she sealed her emerald eyes shut, surprised when she felt Jace's hands grab her waist, slamming her against the wall to stop her fall.

Warm breaths kissed around her face, spreading out and stopping at her ears. She could hear him huffing from the near heart attack she'd given him, though she couldn't say her heart wasn't racing at the moment. Jace's hands had ridden up her shirt, and she could feel five fingers placed on the scoop of her back; that was becoming warmer with his touch, as if he could burn her where she stood. Clary briefly became aware that her right wrist was above her head, pressed there to keep her secure from falling.

Then she opened her eyes.

Slowly, her vision came to her, and when it did, she quietly sucked in a breath. His gold eyes were darting across her face, seeing if she were okay. She'd never looked at him like this, and of course once she did, there was no denying the distance between their faces. His amber lashes were casting sharp shadows, and she wanted to touch them, to memorize his face. To draw it at least so that she'd never forget the moment she was this close to him.

"Are- are you okay?" Jace said with a gravelly tone, making her shiver in what she couldn't define. Clary swallowed heavily, his shirt loose enough to allow her to see black marks spiraling down his skin. "Clary?" He started again. She looked up at him, dazed from the stretch of a moment that had just slipped between her fingers.

"Okay?" She repeated. "Yeah, I'm okay." He nodded at her before drawing a painful space between them, his hand around her hip so that he could walk back to the couch. She was still after he had sat her down, her thoughts pounding against her head as if she could generate the electricity of her apartment with it's speed and energy.

"Why were you walking? You could have woken me up!" Jace started. She flinched, being pulled out of her thoughts so violently with his angelic growls. Clary turned to face him, and she saw his angered expression melt in an instant. "You could have hit your head, hurt yourself. All while I was sleeping!" Jace sighed, hands snaking behind his neck to calm himself.

"I'm sorry." Clary whispered after a few moments of silence. He shook his head, though clearly he was no longer angry with her, if he ever was.

"What's the weather like today?" Clary asked Jace, who was busy trying to stop her from walking without crutches. He pulled out his phone, scowling at her when the New York downpour didn't seem to be heavy. Hopefully, she could find some way to make him forgive her for her previous stunt, but for now, there was something that she needed to do.

"The weather? Oh it's _not a chance in hell_." Jace stated, flashing her a smirk as if he'd won the argument of her leaving the apartment. "Yeah, sucks, should be like that for a couple of weeks." He continued. Clary pouted at him, and this time he genuinely smiled at her. "And I don't think it's letting up." Seeing as she wasn't winning the argument, Clary furrowed her brows and crossed her arms.

"But I _need _to get out!" Clary shouted at him. Of course, she did sound childish, but today was important to her.

"Tell me why you '_need to get out'" _He said, using air quotes. Clary didn't know if she could answer him without making herself tear up, so she barely managed to get one word out that would surely make him see why she needed to leave.

"Cemetery." Clary spoke softly. His brows lowered in frustration, and then she nodded toward the TV, answering his unspoken question. Jace cleared his throat, slowly nodding his head, and she didn't know if she could smile at this, for nothing was happy on this day.

"So that's why Helen announced it...?" Jace asked her. Clary was still, trying to imagine herself wringing her hands around the beautiful reporters neck.

"Yes." Clary chirped. Jace slipped his hand over hers, though she didn't know why he kept doing that, when he obviously was here to take care of her. A small, _annoying _voice in the back of her mind told her why, but Clary just batted away the thought.

"Do you want me to take you?" Jace asked quietly. Clary didn't think that she'd want to see any of her friends or family giving her the pity stare whenever she'd visit their graves. Simon would hug her, Jocelyn would cry with her, Jonathan would give a speech about remembrance, and the last time Jem took her, she was surprised to have him apologizing water about how he never should have hired her, for if he didn't, her family would still be alive. Jace though, she didn't know what he'd do.

"Yes."

* * *

Her eyes skimmed between the two marble stones, watery as they were. Jace was standing a few feet back, allowing her to use her crutches for the privacy they gave. Pastel flowers were already wilting at the edges, laying directly in front of the stones. A couple of years ago, Clary, a mother, would have never imagined standing in front of her children's graves.

Breathing heavily, her gaze lifted to read the names. Her chest ached, as if she were experiencing that day all over again. When she'd been knocked unconscious, when she'd woken up in the hospital, belly still round only to hear that one of her babies was dead. Though she'd wanted silence after hearing of Beth's death, she never wanted to hear something so badly when the doctor checked for a heartbeat. Then she was asleep, waking up to the sound of doctors announcing a time of death. They offered to let her hold him, and when she did, she'd never seen a face that looked more peaceful. Sebastian was gone, not being able to look at his then pregnant wife. Signing papers had never been harder, her own name looked wrong, crooked as she wrote it down, and after that her family was gone.

_Bethany Verlac _and next to her beautiful daughter was _Sebastian Verlac Jr. _the son that would never see the light of day. The next grave was much bigger, a weeping angel with his name written at its post. Clary limped over to it, laying down a rose, for it was a rose that he'd given her on their first day together, and it was a rose she'd given him on their last day together.

"Every year that passes, I think, would she be saying my name now? Would she have you wrapped around her little finger? Would she saying that she hated us when we wouldn't let her have a certain toy? Would our son be taking his first steps by now? Would we be out buying candles because we keep throwing them out each birthday?" Her voice cracked, just like the one's on the older headstones. "Would you still love me?" She whispered to the weeping angel.

"I still wear the ring, I've never taken it off. I _will _never take it off." She vowed to the man who lay dreaming in an eternal slumber. "Sometimes I ask myself 'why you did it,' ' why did you leave me,' but then I think, 'did you still know I loved you, even when we both couldn't look at each other?' Would we do it, for her? Would we have stayed together for her? Even after she left us?" Clary shook her head, not wanting to think of the awful moment. "Elodie called me a few days ago. I think she wanted to see if I was okay. It's like we're still married, to her it's like I'm still family. Like you didn't bit the barrel of a gun when the world went to shit. I still tried to imagine why you did that, but when I got shot, I actually felt peaceful. I didn't want to wake up Sebastian. _I wanted to see our family_." Her words became muddled by sobs.

She turned around, looking at Jace who had his head bowed. She cleared her grief clogged throat, gaining his attention. Jace's jaw was hardened, his muscles tense as he stared at the three graves.

"Let's go."

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	10. Future

She woke up with the scream of an alarm clock. Her hand met in angrily, begging for a few measly minutes of sleep. Eyes adjusting to the familiar walls of her room, she sat up. The buttons of her night shirt had shifted to her shoulder, making her adjust the shirt. Lungs breathing, she noted that there was a lessening of the heavy grief that had usually weighed her down. Kicking the comforters, she saw that there was a stain on her sweats from last night's TV dinner. Clary didn't think much of the action when she shook herself free of the cotton prison, looking down to gaze at the blue boy short underwear.

Her legs touched the ground, and she smiled at the thought of her recent accomplishment: walking. Jace had been there when she did it, not a step behind her as she strutted across the living room to answer the phone that had remained in his hands for the duration of his stay. Of course, the moment she finished her short journey, he told her that she couldn't expect him to leave when she still could not drive, go to work, or even take a brisk walk throughout the local parks. Clary didn't think she could tell him to leave either, admitting that there was a strange attachment to the angel boy.

Each step she took to the living room, she was quiet; not wanting to wake him up as it was still early. Captain Carstairs had told Jace that he was to remain at Clary's side ever since the shooting, since vacation was mandatory after seeing a man commit suicide and shoot another officer. Though she didn't want to call him a bother, walking was her only escape from his constant _are you okay _and _Clary, quit trying to walk out the front door. _Okay, so maybe there were a _few _times she'd tried to make a daring escape, just to see what the outside world was doing without her. Jace had to pick her up and throw her over his shoulders each time, no matter how hard she pounded his back with her small fists and saying that she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions.

Clary padded across the living room, her only mistake being that she stepped on a floorboard that squeaked no matter how heavy the weight on it was. Timidly, she turned to see if he had awakened, shock overtaking her when she saw that he wasn't laying sprawled on the living room couch. Clary squeaked at the sound the came from the door next to her. Behind the bathroom door, she heard the toilet flush. When the door opened and out popped Jace, she flew backwards, falling down, her spine roughly sliding down the back of her couch. The wooden floors were cold against her thinly covered rear, and her button up had slid to her midsection.

Jace's eyes widened in what she thought was worry, until she'd actually taken the state she was in. Here she was, curls sprawled out like a dangerous blaze, a blush to her ivory complexion and barely clothed. Jace, who was only in sweats, slammed the bathroom door.

"Are you okay?" He asked from the other side of the door, his voice muffled by the oak wood. Clary looked around her, inspecting to see if her body had taken any serious damage. Her back may have gotten burned from the rough contact, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"Yeah, why'd you slam the door on me?" Clary question him. There was a brief silence and she stared at the door, waiting for an answer. She heard him clear his throat, and couldn't help but press her brows in a feeling of hurt that spread across her chest. Did he not _want _to see her?

"I, uh, just think I should wait a minute before helping you..." Clary didn't understand what this meant, then looking down at herself again, her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment. _Oh... _"So why are you, dressed like that? Weren't you wearing sweats to bed?" Jace asked her from inside the bathroom.

"There was a stain, and I thought you'd be asleep." She whispered loud enough for him to hear her. A few seconds passed before he responded.

"Okay, I think I'm ready." He chuckled, opening the bathroom door. It was her turn to gasp at him now, seeing as there was no shirt to cover the toned abdominals that she'd never seen before. Covering his muscles were abstract lines that differed from looking like scars to well drawn tattoos. Suddenly, his arms were covering his chest, and he was smirking at her.

"Eyes up here, Clary." Jace said, pointing to his eyes. She rolled her's as she sat, still waiting to be assisted from her situation.

"Don't say that, you're the one who had to _cool down_ for a minute!" Clary shot back. He tisked at her before lending her a well sculpted arm to pull on. She tugged on it greedily, the golden skin shifting under her arm as he helped her. Once she was standing, she took off towards the laundry room, grabbing the closest pair of shorts and sliding them over her shaking legs.

"Not like I haven't seen it before!" He shouted from the living room. She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see the action.

"I was shot in the leg!" Clary shouted back to him. A distant chuckle reached her, and she scowled heavily, her bright, although cloudy day becoming darker as the minutes passed. When she took her steady steps back, he still had that, although annoying smirk, it did make her confidence quiver.

"I think you're falling for me." Jace chuckled.

"You wish." Clary groaned.

* * *

Jace knocked on Jocelyn's door, Clary sighing heavily behind him as his hand rested on her hip. He like how easily he could affect her, how he could make her face redden with a simply comment.

"Clary!" Jocelyn smiled, reaching in to hug her daughter, Jace still holding onto her back, Jocelyn looking confused before her eyes widened in disbelief.

"One hug in the beginning of my visits, one hug at the end, and brief hand holding." Clary groaned to her mother. "Those are the terms of my visitation." Her head flicked back to Jace, who couldn't help but smile at Jocelyn's shocked expression.

"All to keep her safe, Ma'am." Jace said with a salute, although his other hand still steadied Clary. Seeing that she had to get up the stairs, and that he didn't want her to crack her head on them, he scooped her up with a loud noise of disapproval from Clary.

"It's like you're married!" Jocelyn chuckled, waving them forward.

"Well, we weren't going to tell anyone-"

"Jace!" Clary interjected, swatting at his chest with her regaining strength.

"How swiftly you dismiss our love." He scoffed, smiling of course when he plopped her down on her mother's leather sofa. His hand still wrapped around her waist, and when she pleaded up to him with sparkling eyes, he wore a stern mask and shook his head.

"No, don't even ask me because it seems like everytime I let go of you, you either fall down or undress." Jace stated. Clary gasped, Jocelyn's eyes widening at what he'd just.

_"What?" _Jocelyn gawked. Jace gave her a smirk, winking down at Clary when his gaze returned to her.

"Small incident this morning." Clary explained, pinching the bridge of her nose. Jace's hand flew to his chest in false hurt.

_"Small?" _Jace croaked. Jocelyn snickered at the two, before she finally began speaking.

"So Dear, how _is _house arrest?" She asked Clary, eyeing Jace.

"Besides the meals, I'd say it sucks." Clary growled. Jace firmly wrapped his arm around her waist before sliding her even closer to him as if they were conjoined. Clary sent an annoyed glance at him before remembering their conversation.

"Want to tell her about your failed escapes?" Jace asked Clary. She smacked him hard, though it didn't add any distance between the two. Much to his wishes.

"Jace, it's not escaping, it's called leaving your _own house_." She explained to him. Jace shrugged his shoulders, adding friction, further irritating her; again, much to his wishes.

After their brief argument, Jace found it intriguing to listen to Clary and her mother talk about simple and not so simple things such as the anniversary that had passed a few days ago. Jace wouldn't forget that, hearing her sob to her family about how she's been. That night, he heard her whimper until she eventually passed out from exhaustion. Curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself walking to her room, cracking open the door to see her curled up in the fetal position. Clary was shivering, and then he was curled up beside her, comforting the fragile state she was in, even if she was sleep.

Though Jace didn't say it, Jem had told him about how worried he was of Clary, and that he expected Jace to look after her while she was recovering. Now, Jace wasn't sure that he could leave her after she recovered. Each step she took was another moment he wouldn't have with her. She was the first person he'd met that didn't look at him like the wounded soldier he was. She was the first person who didn't want or need to see his past.

But the thing was, he wanted her to see his future, though whether she would want to stand where he wanted her to depended on just _how _she saw him.

* * *

**And the plot thickens...**

**Thoughts?**


	11. Guardian Angel

_Okay, laughings good, definitely keep her laughing Lewis._ Simon thought to himself as Isabelle giggled, sounding of bells chiming beautifully to his ear's liking. It was their first date, and Simon had had plenty of first dates, though not as many second. He was desperate to make her like him, but he'd already jumped in front of a gun for her, what else could he do if not to prove that he was already madly in love with her.

"You're cute when you do that." Isabelle laughed at him.

"Do what?" He questioned, cursing himself for not paying as much attention as to what she was doing and instead spending it on her laughter and heart breaking face.

"When you stare at me like I'm all that matters to you at the moment." She explained. Simon's brows furrowed in confusion, how could she think she wasn't?

"But you _are_." He emphasized, holding her hands in his, wondering if he was being to sensitive for their first date. He surely didn't want to scare her away because he was already too invested in her for the beginning of what very well could be a relationship. Isabelle was speechless for a while, until finally Simon had to speak up again. "I know that sounds like a bit mu-"

Simon was stopped when she leaned over the booth table, pulling the collar of his shirt and before he could even think, she was kissing him with what must've been the softest lips in the world. Her lips moved feverously against his, without complaint. Simon poked at her closed lips with his tongue, her granting him entrance so that theirs could mingle. She gasped in his mouth, and he groaned heavily, wishing that the marble booth didn't separate them.

"Get a room!" Someone shouted. Isabelle pulled back, smiling with flushed cheeks and jet black hair framing her face, and Simon though she'd never looked more beautiful to him. His hand cupped her chin, still leaning over the table. He tucked a dark lock behind her ear, and her blush deepened, distorting the creme colored complexion of _his_ Isabelle.

"Why'd you do that?" He whispered.

"The waitress was looking at you, and I wanted her to know that you're mine." Isabelle may have smirked, but her ears turned pink.

"You'res huh?" Simon asked with a cheesy grin. Isabelle rolled her dark eyes at him, making him worry that their first of what he hoped were many kisses, was brought on by simple jealousy. His eyes flitted over to the waitress, who was busying herself with an order, though he could see her cheeks flush furiously as she was most likely listening in on the conversation.

"All of you." She winked, and Simon had to restrain himself from taking her hand and driving her home, to where he'd do things that even the devil himself would blush at.

* * *

"Really? That's great!" Clary couldn't help but feel happy for her best friend, who had his first date, and first kiss, with the dark haired beauty. Isabelle was her name, but it felt odd to call her that after Simon and Clary went so long without a title to her

"Is she going to the club with us, right?" Clary asked Simon. It had been Jem's idea to get her out of the apartment since she'd been stuck home moping, but Jace was unsure of letting her go to Pandemonium. She didn't care though, she'd been trapped in the apartment for too long, listening to him tease about her supposedly falling for him.

_"Yeah, but she's a little nervous, so go easy on her!"_ Simon chuckled. Jace peaked his head in through her door, winking, and she picked up a pillow and threw it at him.

"Hey, can she come over? I love her sense of style and I literally have nothing to wear." Clary sighed. She heard the wooden floors creak and turned to once again see Jace listening in on her conversation. He held his hands up in innocence, and she allowed him to rest at the foot of the bed.

"_She said that you have to let her do her job if she's going to dress you up_." Simon replied. Clary nodded, but after realizing that he couldn't see that, she answered.

"Okay! Whatever you have to do to make me look like less of an off-duty cop and more of a twenty-six year old!" Clary sighed, hanging up on the phone. Jace was sitting on her bed, cross legged with his hands over his knees like her counselor.

"Go ahead, I know you have something to say." Clary began. Jace's face lifted up with a devious smile.

"What are you going to wear to Pandemonium?" Jace grinned. Her face flushed at the idea of him seeing her where anything classified as skimpy. "Come on," He groaned. "I've seen you in your underwear, nothing you wear would be too revealing." She smacked his arm, angered that he imagined her wearing that.

"I don't _know_ what I'm wearing asshat!" She growled at him.

"Asshat?" Jace repeated. Clary shook her head, not having any chance of winning an argument with him. Hopefully after Jem saw that she was capable of clubbing, that he'd let her return to the precinct. Maybe she could finally have time to herself with Jace gone.

"Who _is_ he dating anyway?" Jace asked after she shut him out of her room. This was her house anyway!

"Some girl named Isabelle. Apparently their date went pretty good." Clary answered from inside her room. From outside, she heard what sounded like choking, and flung open the door to see Jace's face purple with oxygen deprivation. Clary pounded on his back, hugging his chest tightly to her until he eventually started to breath on his own.

"_Isabelle_?!" Jace croaked. She nodded with a worried expression, as his face was still flushed from his previous choking bit.

"Yeah, why?" Clary asked him.

"Last name! _What's her last name?_" Jace growled at her. His face was no longer red with recovery, but with anger and fright.

"I don't know!" Clary shouted. "Why?" She asked him. Jace was pulling at the ends of his golden locks, his brows pressed together and him counting to ten several times.

"What does she look like?" He huffed. Before she could answer, he started speaking. "Tall, creme colored skin, a face that only a model could own?" Jace spoke quickly. Clary backed away from him, walking into her room.

"Yeah..." Clary whispered. "Please tell me she doesn't mean anything to you?" Clary said with her eyes closed.

"That's my sister!"

* * *

"You want me to wear _that_?" Clary gasped, looking at the skinny black dress. Isabelle nodded excitedly. When she'd first arrived, it wasn't pretty between Simon and Jace, as the two girls had to pull them apart once Jace had lunged at the other detective. That was the first time she'd ever heard Simon scream. Isabelle seemed pretty scared as well at her adoptive brother's angered face. Apparently, having a good date ment much more to Jace than it did to the couple.

"Yes, I think you'll look sexy in it!" Isabelle encouraged. Clary rolled her eyes, taking the dress that could have passed as a shirt from Isabelle. As Clary was only in her underwear, she slipped in on over her ivory legs and stern stomach and settling it above her breast. Isabelle whistled at her, and Clary thought she could hear wood creak from outside her room.

"Like I said, sexy." Isabelle yelled the last word out in the direction of the door, thinking what Clary was as footsteps sounded throughout the house. Isabelle chuckled as she turned back to Clary, starting to apply makeup to her face. When Clary looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn't even recognize the grieving woman the mascara, blush and eyeliner hid.

"Wow..." Clary gasped, touching the bun Isabelle had set in her hair. "I _do_ look sexy. You're a miracle worker!" Clary chuckled.

"I try." Isabelle shrugged. Clary laughed at her expression before slipping into heels. Though she was going to a club, she didn't think she'd end up dancing. All she had to prove to Jem was that she was _beyond_ capable of functioning. Walking out with Isabelle, Clary saw the smiling faces of Simon and Jace as they approached the two. Jace was wearing black jeans, a maroon button-up rolled up to his elbows. A few buttons were undone, revealing the muscles that she'd seen a few days ago and a few tattoos. Simon was wearing a tight black shirt, blue jeans covering his long legs.

"Shall we?" Isabelle asked them. Jace looked her up and down, something Clary never thought he'd do for such a disorderly girl such as herself. He walking up to her, striding as if her were a lion closing in on a lone gazelle such as herself. His hand reached into her hair, pulling back something. She didn't realize it was a pin until curl after curl escaped the collapsing bun. When no traces of the style were left, he smiled at her.

"We shall." He said, winding his arm around her back to hold her hip; something that usually annoyed her, but now excited her.

* * *

The body heat was suffocating, and the drinks were intoxicating. Clary's makeup was most likely smeared, as was Isabelle's as she swayed to the music with Simon. Clary's vision was blurred by the alcohol, and she wasn't sure if it was Jem she saw mauling what she thought was his wife Tessa's face. Jace had remained by her side all night, until he had excused herself to use the bathroom. The DJ looked familiar to Clary, and then she remembered that it was him that the precinct had used to go undercover in the drug trafficking that was passing through a chain of clubs. Some of her fellow officers were taking part in the crowd energy, and she could recall some of their names.

As Clary's eyes skimmed the club, she saw a man, calling her over with his finger. He had long, dark hair that contrasted against his ivory skin; reminding her of the husband she had lost. His eyes were a bright green, and Clary couldn't stop herself from strutting, her heels making her look like a lioness on the hunt, and met him with a nervous smile.

"What's your name, lovely?" The man whispered down into her ears, making her shudder.

"Clary..." She sighed heavily into his mouth as they shared little space between each other. The liquor in her system made her feel brave, flirty; a seductress of weak men such as this one. "Yours?" Clary asked, feeling the man snaked his arms down to her hips. She shuddered again, and with his hands on her, he felt it; sending rich chuckles down her neck as he flipped her around to slide their hips against each other.

"Meliorn." He said darkly. She could feel him against her, just like she did when she used to go to clubs before she got pregnant. Clary closed her eyes, allowing the intoxication to push herself against the enchanting man. Each breath he exhaled traveled down the scoop of her dress, making her body break out in goose bumps. Clary's arms raised in the air, locking around the man's neck behind her. He exhaled hot breaths down her inner arms, his hands now guiding the roughness of her hips.

She felt so free! Out of control as she let the acquaintance grind against her. She'd done this with many guys in her college years. These boys weren't looking for their princess, and she wasn't looking for a princess. It was all empty of emotion, on the feeling of pleasure as they mingled with their bodies. Meliorn's movements were fluid against her small frame, her sighing in content at the animalistic instinct that lead the two of them.

Something, though she couldn't tell what, made her open her eyes, and look into the golden one's that were gazing at her from the stool of the bar. She saw through half-lidded eyes that he wore no emotion as he watched her give herself up the stranger Meliorn. The intoxicating blood that pumped through her heart made her bite her lip, teasing the angel who sat several feet away. She ground herself harder against the stranger, her arms clammy as they remained locked against Meliorn's damp neck.

"God..." Meliorn sighed, matching her force equally, causing her to whimper. Clary closed her eyes momentarily, and when she opened them, the angel was gone. Her mood shifted instantly from sexy to lost as the stranger grinded against her. Suddenly, there was someone standing right in front of her, flashing his badge at the man who'd been dancing with her.

"NYPD! Get off of her!" Jace growled at Meliorn, who didn't take to kindly to being interrupted.

"Why the hell should I?" Meliorn sneared, still grinding hard against Clary.

"She's fifteen." Was all Jace had to say to send Meliorn skidding backward, merging with the crowd to avoid false charges. Clary watched him disappear, then snapped her gaze back to Jace, badge now tucked in his pocket.

"Clary-" She stormed away from him, not wanting to hear his excuse as to why he ruined her good time. Clary took the exit that led into the alley, cold air replacing the place Meliorn's arms had occupied. Not long after she'd pushed open the door, Jace was chasing after her as she walked down the alley.

"Clary-" He started again before he saw the look of rage in her eyes.

"_What_?!" She seethed, her skin matching the color of her flaming hair. Jace blinked at her with a shocked expression.

"I'm sorry I did that but-"

"But _what_ Jace, I was actually having a good time for _just once_ in my miserable life. And then you decide it's time to play Officer Killjoy!" Clary was fuming at him, no longer cold from the New York chill.

"I wasn't trying to mess up your good time!" Jace shot back at her. Clary's head shook quickly, not wanting to hear his shoddy apology.

"_Then why on Earth would you do that_?!" She questioned him. Clary watched him take a steady breath before slamming her against the wall, his lips hot on her.

All previous anger was gone, muddled by confusion and desire as she whimpered in his mouth. His hands pressed roughly against her hips, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, grounding herself to him, not wanting him to suddenly leave her. Deep in the darkest corners of her mind, Clary had wished for such a thing to happen. For him to see her as the angel she saw him as. His lips press heavily against her soft one's, and Clary doesn't care that they'll have to figure it out in the morning. She doesn't care at all as he slips his tongue into her waiting mouth. Her fingers grip his forearms roughly, leaving angry crescents trailing along his skin. She's never needed someone so badly, Clary thinks as he kisses, sucks along her neck. Should he ever regret this, she could simply blame the alcohol and hopefully laugh about it, but for now he is hers.

Jace panted, groaned, and eventually chuckled as they knocked heads rubbing against each other.

"Let's go home." She sighed into his cheek. When he nodded, her legs unhooked themselves from his waist as they started something neither were prepared to finish.

* * *

She couldn't tell who was had starting undressing first, and maybe the liquor was to blame; but right now all she could focus on was the toned stomach of her guardian angel. Once he caught her gaze, he smiled at her and motioned for her to join him in the corner of her bedroom. Like a child, she sauntered over to him. Clary's mouth was hanging open as she could not comprehend the words for what was happening at the moment.

"I really like this dress," Jace commented as he felt up the black fabric. Like Isabelle had said, it did make her look sexy. At least to Jace. He didn't seem to be complaining at all as his hand dipped under each curve of her body; loving that the dress outlined her toned figure.

"You do?" She choked out through her cloud of confused desire. Sure she wanted him, and right now, more than anything. More than she ever thought she'd want someone after Sebastian had died. But her mind started to wander to the other woman that had dressed like her with their tight dresses and smeared makeup. She thought of how she was going to mimic each moan and groan as he felt each inch of sensitive skin that made up her person. The alcohol thought otherwise as it spoke over her reason, telling her that they were having fun; that she deserved to have fun after the hell she'd been through.

"God, yes." He whispered as if it were a secret that the dress made her look desireable. Her alcohol-slowed skimmed down his stomach, her mouth frowning at his clothed thighs. _If she could just get them off-_

His hand dipped between her legs, probing at a place that hadn't been ventured in so long that. Her mind was split in two, worrying if he was going to fast with an angered impatience or screaming that he was going to slow for someone who hadn't been touched in almost three years.

"Just like I imagined," Jace sighed as his fingers skirted around the extremely nerve-racked skin. Clary didn't even know she was panting until he leaned in and her own breaths reflected on her skin.

"How," Clary had to pause to collect her tequila-scattered thoughts. She remember Isabelle had told her something about tequila, how you should never do something after drinking it.

_"Beer will get you drunk and bloated. Wine will get you drunk and give you the runs. Tequila will get you drunk and pregnant." Isabelle said as they walked into the club. _

_"Where did you hear that?" Clary snorted._

_"Some TV show, anyways that doesn't matter. Just be careful, okay?" Isabelle worried. _

_"I'll be fine, Isabelle." She laughed, her eyes skirting over to the angel that was already walking over to them. She wondered if Jace was the type of man to buy her a drink. _

_"What were you girls doing outside?" Jace asked as he grabbed Clary's shoulder and escorted her to the bar. _

_"You know, girl stuff." Clary glibbed. Jace shook his head, obviously not believing her. _

_"I thought you do that in the bathroom, not outside of a club. Unless that's why you take so long in there, because you're all walking to a club to do your 'girl stuff.'" She couldn't help but notice the languid pull on his words. _

_"Did you get something to drink?" She asked him. He tucked his free hand in his jean pocket, smiling sheepishly as she faced him. _

_"Maybe, but that doesn't matter, what matters is that you're here." Jace spoke with an honesty she didn't know of. _

_"I thought you didn't want me to be here?" She shouted over the music._

_" I don't, but if it makes you happy, then I'll do anything for you." Clary didn't want to seem flustered by his words, so she quickly grabbed the fresh beer the bartender had served her and swallowed half of it in one gulp._

So she didn't just have tequila, but who was counting? Not her, because she couldn't remember just what she allowed into her system as she lazily ordered each drink.

"How did you imagine me?" She nearly moaned as his pinky moved her underwear slightly to reveal her weeping center.

"_Wet_." Was all he said before he slid both hands up her tight dress and tugged her underwear down. The lace fabric swooped down her legs in record time, leaving her to gaze at it wrapped around her ankles instead of her waist.

"Remember what I said about this dress?" Jace growled into her ear. She thought back to how he said he liked it. Even though the memory was recent, the fog of incapacitation blocked certain clarity of the speech. She just answered what she assumed to be true.

"Yes," She squeaked, making him give a dark, approving, laugh.

"Well, I lied. I want it off you so badly that it hurts." He corrected sharply, his hands skimming up her back to not tangle in her hair, but to reach for the zipper. The noise of the metal sliding apart had never been louder to her drunken ears. Maybe going out clubbing wasn't the _best_ thing to do when she hadn't been drinking ever since she had found out about her past pregnancy.

The fabric felt heavy as it hung limply on her shoulders. Jace allowed it to slip off her body on its own, time sliding between her fingertips. When she blinked, they were already laying down on her bed, both bare to each other. Against her stomach she could feel his erection poke at her with need. She was so, so wet for him; only waiting for him to take initiative.

"I'm horrible," Jace growled.

"W-why are you horrible?" She hiccuped. He frowned at her drunken behavior, but she was sure she wasn't _that_ drunk, maybe a strong buzz, but she could hold her liquor, or whatever else she had that night.

"Because," Jace sighed. "We're doing this all wrong." She sat up from her position under him, and he sat next to her on the bed, his pants turning into long exhaltations of air.

"I thought you wanted this? Did I do something wrong?" Clary wondered aloud. He quickly shook his head.

"No, you could never do something wrong. But me, I'm doing something wrong. I should be taking you out, buying you the prettiest flowers and the most expensive of wines as we ate at the fanciest of restaurants. Not like this, not while you can't even recite the alphabet or walk on a straight line." He chided himself.

"But I want you!" She croaked, falling back to the bed and covering her eyes with her hands. "I want you so badly that I'm scared I'll do something wrong! I already am! You don't even want to be with me!" Clary sobbed loudly, probably throwing a tantrum her daughter would have if she were still alive. The thought only made her cry harder.

"Don't cry," He fretted, kissing her cheeks with his soft, full lips.

"I'm sorry," She sniffled. Jace pecked her collar bones with his lips, and she removed one of her arms from her face to see what he was doing. Slowly, she watched as he straddled her, no resentment as he looked into her watery eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm not romantic," He kissed into her chin. She still kept sniffling, worrying that he'd pull away at any second and leave her a hot mess. "Or sensitive," Jace kissed her cheek. "Or the perfect man," He kissed her forehead.

"But you are perfect, to me, you're everything." Clary said, and couldn't decide if the _Bud Light_ had coaxed it out of her or if it were her own heart speaking him through her weakened conscious.

"And the perfect man wouldn't do this, not when you remember it all tomorrow." Jace amended.

"Then hold me, please." She whispered, scared he'd go to sleep on the couch that he had been for the past weeks.

"That I can do," he said, quickly shuffled next to her and wrapping her waist with his big, strong arms. Before she could threaten him with an assault the next morning, she felt sleep overtaking her, and secretly grateful for Jace being a respectful man and declining anything further than exposed skin.

* * *

**Loving your reviews by the way!**

**Any thoughts?**


	12. Waking Up

She woke up, warmer than usual. As Clary looked down with groggy eyes, she saw that she was more _exposed _than usual. She grabbed the white sheet that was at her waist, and pulled it to cover her exposed chest. There was a heavy weight in her stomach, and Clary didn't know why she felt so _different, _with her unhinged joints and sensitive skin. She could feel the blanket scratchily slide over each nerve, eliciting a response. Her back tickled, and she tried to brush her hair off of the skin, but the sensation still lingered. When her hands went to cup her stomach, hoping to rub away the heavy feeling, her touch revealed a hand to be resting on her abdomen.

Shock bounced through her head as she prayed she hadn't gone home with a stranger, that she was only dreaming. Then again, Jace wouldn't let her bring home a nameless man if he had any say, which he usually did. Clary became aware of someone breathing softly against her bare back, and shivered at the image of the dark-haired Meliorn laying in bed with her. Slowly did memories of last night trickle through her head. Clary could remember being held tightly by a man made faceless by liquor. She could remember him holding her softly, her encouraging more movement out of him as he kissed each sensitive part of her grief ridden body. When she kissed his face, his skin was salty tasting, but she still did it anyway. As tightly as she wanted him to hold her, he never gave up his caring touch as they, _no, what they had done wasn't sex. _It carried much more meaning when he coaxed her through each moan, and she brushing his _golden locks? _out of his eyes.

_No..._

Aware of the arm around her stomach, she turned, sliding against his muscular chest, and looked up to his resting, angelic face. Her bare torso pressed against his chest, and his eyes fluttered open, immediately looking down to her cautious stare. Her breath hitched, but he remained calm, sure of himself as he brought his hand to her face, smoothly outlining her jaw, her lips, her collar bones...

"Jace?" Clary whispered. He was jolted out of his actions and his eyes returned to her's, scared and confused they must have appeared to him. _This was a mistake, _she thought. Sleeping with someone who'd she would have to see every day for most of her career. Clary began to recoil from his touch, the bed sheets pulling against her waist.

"Don't." Jace started, grabbing at her wrists and gently pulling her back against him. Her cheeks flamed, and there was nothing else she could do but feel him soft, _hard, _against her small frame. His amber eyes sparkled down at her, and nothing she could have done would have prevented him from bringing her lips. Clary found herself actually smiling against his slight stubble, her hand snaking around his neck as if it were the most natural thing she could have done, and with _him._

"What do I do?" Jace asked her, now straddling her bare hips. This made her laugh, as she had assumed that he'd know what to do.

"Well, usually, you take this…" Clary said, grabbing his hardened cock in her small hand. He gasped, thrusting in her grip with a few choice words to groan up at the ceiling. "And you put it _here_," She guided him to her sopping entrance that hadn't calmed down from last nights arousal. He rubbed against her, spreading her natural juices like lubrication for what was to come. Or who was to come.

"Then what?" He said with eyebrows pursed together in concentration. She couldn't help but moan when he slid across her sensitive spot.

"Oh god, just take over before I finish." She gasped, throwing her arms around her head. Jace kissed her neck with his warm lips that provided some comfort to her impending embarrassment. She was sure that she'd mess something up when being with someone so _perfect_.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to regret this." He asked with thinly concealed impatience. She wanted to yell at him to just take her, but seeing as how he was being respectful, raised her hips up to his throbbing member.

"_Please_," she gasped aloud. He hissed as the tip of his dick slid into her with one of the best noises she'd ever heard. She wanted to hear more of that, and soon. She raised her hips again, but he pushed them down when she took in more of him.

"If you don't stop, I won't be able to stop." Jace warned, still lifting her hips. Clary smiled up at him, not caring about how long they lasted, only that they were together often, very often.

With her hips still raised, he slid his twitching dick into her with a loud groan.

"God, you're so tight, only for me." He sighed, not fully in.

"Yes, oh by the Angel, only for you." Clary gasped, sliding her body up and allowing him to be fully absorbed in her slick pussy.

"Please, don't ever regret this," Jace groaned, pumping into her at a slow pace, making her feel every ridge, curve, and length of him that was unique in every amazing way. She was surprised that he hadn't released her hips, but glad as it only intensified what they were doing.

"Never!" She cried out, closing her eyes tightly to feel just how wonderful his movements were to her neglected womanhood.

"I don't want any guy at any club to hear those sounds, got it?" Jace growled, leaning down to her head to suck at her neck.

"Yes!" Clary screamed, her walls clenching around him in what she had believed would never happen for her, not after Sebastian.

"Oh, I can't…" He couldn't finish his sentence as he yelled what would have been a roar into her neck, his movements becoming stationary as he emptied himself into her. She was so exhausted that she couldn't move, leaving him to pull out of her with a hiss.

"And to think, we would have forgotten that," he said with a breathless yawn from being so worn out. Staying up late and waking up early was something she did not want to experience again, but if it meant the same end results, then so be it.

"I don't think I'll ever forget that." She said with a yawn of her own. Clary couldn't even gasp when he pulled her on top of him and had her rest their. She shrugged her shoulders, burying her head into his chest, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her.

* * *

Again, she awakened, though the sun was much brighter, more higher up in the sky. Patterns were being traced intricately on her back, and it brought those same feelings of want flush against her. The surface under her was warm, much too warm for her average mattress. When she felt his arms around her hips, she knew instantly who it was, and without fear, she lifted her head up to face him. He must've been awake before her, for his eyes were without bags as he looked at her exposed body. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty, not sure what their actions meant to him. She didn't even know what the meant to her either, but something told her that whatever had transpired couldn't be forgotten.

"What did we _do?_" She whispered to him, her breath licking up his marvelous pectorals. His patterns briefly stopped, listening to her for the first time since last night.

"I don't know..." He sighed against her scalp. Her chest throbbed, and she was again recoiling from him. And again, he pulled her back against him, but this time was different. Her emotions were raw, her eyes watery as she looked at him, scared that this meant nothing to him when she'd believed that it meant so much more when he caressed her tenderly the night before. "Clary, wait." He began, holding her trembling body to his.

"No, this is _wrong." _Clary saw hurt flash in the angel's eyes, but she had to shake the thought away. Guys like _him _didn't care about sex. "We _work together, _Jace." Clary shook her head as she sat up in bed, turning her exposed back to him.

"Do you honestly expect me to forget what happened? To forget just how _good _it felt having you under me, on top of me, _beside _me?" Jace asked in a hurt tone. It made Clary look back to him, his eyes showed so much more than he was saying, but their was still a certain layer of doubt covering her own eyes as she listened to him. "Look, I know that it's weird, sleeping," He hissed at the word that left his mouth. "_Being _with someone you work with, but if I can get past it, can you?" Jace pleaded with her, his golden orbs observing her expression. There was nothing she could do except jump at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sighing heavily against the crook of his neck. He chuckled, holding her tightly, kissing her head.

"You _do _know we'll be going back to work soon, right? Last night basically confirmed that my legs work." Clary half laughed. Jace's arms skimmed up her back, stopping to lift her head to look at him.

"Yes, but I don't want anyone else finding out just how good they work." Jace said with a stern jaw. Clary slid her vision to the west wall of her bedroom, chewing her lip guiltily.

"Well-" And there was nothing else she could say, because in an aggravated groan, he pulled her lips back to his, where she hoped they would remain for the duration of the day, however much time remained.

* * *

**So Clace is happening!**

**You guys are amazing, and as always, I love your reviews!**

**Any thoughts?**


	13. DTR

"Don't even think about it." Clary giggled as Jace snaked his arm around her waist. They were in her living room, watching some mediocre TV show that just happened to be on when Jace grabbed the remote.

"And if I did?" Jace pondered. She shook her head, her smile lighting up the room, though she wouldn't get his way, again. She was lucky that she could walk, very lucky considering how few of minutes they spent out of her bedroom.

"I just got my legs back, are you going to take them away?" She asked him. He snorted, and she used the distraction to grab the remote that was resting on his lap. Jace, apparently didn't think of that, and he grabbed her hand and pressed her to him.

"Jace!" She rolled her eyes, him pulling her into his lap.

"But I need you!" He cried out, rubbing against her while she straddled him. Clary's will was wearing thin as she felt him needing her.

"Need me?" She repeated to him. Jace nodded eagerly, as if he thought he was winning. "Like you needed me last night, and this morning, and then later in the morning?" She asked him. His smile faded to embarrassment. Clary's hands cupped his face, and let out a squeak when he cupped her rear.

"So badly." Jace groaned, and with the small whimper that betrayed her when it left her mouth, he tugged off his shirt, revealing the tattoos she'd briefly seen in the past hours. Her fingers traced lightly over the marks, lowering down to his stomach, and across each arm. She almost flew back from him when his phone rang in his pocket. Jace angrily fished it out of his pocket, smashing his thumb against the answer prompt.

"What?" Jace growled, Clary giggling as he tried to adjust himself. A few minutes went by where he was apparently talking to there captain. When Jace _finally _hung up, Clary nearly ripped is pants off.

"What did Jem say?" Clary panted, frowning when Jace put a stop to her actions.

"He said that we better be to work on time, no exceptions." Jace gestured towards his _problem. _

* * *

When she walked into the precinct, she was nervous of the welcome she might get. Jace's hand was around her waist, even after she was sure she could manage walking and a few minutes of sprinting. He made her prove that to him before he allowed her to go back to work, as if he could keep her from returning to the place she loved most.

"Clary!" Jem cheered, seeing her face, and sending her a questioning look to the hand wrapped around her waist. Clary looked back up to Jace, wondering if he was sure about proving his attraction to her in front of the people they worked with. Simon was the only man who managed to get Jace's hands off of her as he hugged

_"Please, _don't tell me you're with him?" Simon whispered in her ear, and Clary just had to wonder what her and just were, what she meant to him. Sure, they had been with each other multiple times in the last couple of days, but friends could have benefits. _Strangers _had benefits. She wasn't going to ask him for anything, wasn't even go to expect anything because he was a single, attractive man in New York city, allowed to spend his youth in the beds of strangers.

Clary shrugged at him, turning her face to the line of people just waiting to give her the same hug that Simon had. She was in a daze as she was passed down from officer to officer, each congratulating her on her recovery. They'd done the same when Clary had returned a year after her family's implosion. All of the officers gave her strange looks as they observed how protective Jace was of her, pushing them back after a few seconds too long of a hug. After all, this was the place where she'd met her ex-husband.

"You're back!" Aline cheered, wrapping her in a hug that she'd missed. She was basically a sister to Sebastian, and had been there for all their relationship milestones, _well, some of them. _

"Yeah." Clary breathed a deep sigh, only smiling so she wouldn't alarm the dark haired woman. Aline looked at her apologetically, and Clary braced herself for the woman's next words.

"Helen is _so _sorry about what happened on air. It was written in..." Aline was starting to squeak as she apologized to Clary.

"It's okay, Aline. It happened two years ago, and it happened again. So what?" Clary shrugged. Aline let out a gust of relief, hugging the redhead again before returning to her desk, filing through recent cases.

"Do you think you can handle today?" Jace whispered to her. She nodded, though her chest tightened around him, unsure if he would remain so caring after a few days had passed. Clary had several questions at the tip of her tongue, wanting to ask if he'd really meant what he said on the morning after they'd slept with each other. Could he really care for her? As much as he'd said he wanted to be with her, how much of his speech could she trust?

She sauntered over to her leather chair situated by her maple desk. There were several folders on the wooden surface, paperwork _just _for her, Clary thought. Her captain approached her, his hands behind his back, tucked in his pockets.

"You know I won't let you go chasing criminals _just _yet, right?" Captain Carstairs asked Clary. She gave him her best smile, hoping she could at least chase someone down the street. The leather chair squeaked under her as she silently pleaded for him to be weak and let her get involved in the action her paycheck provided.

"Please?" Clary whined to him. "I've been stuck at home _far _too long, and now I'm going to be stuck here, with _Jace _still watching me!" Clary flung her hands up in her air, her back pressing into the chair with another sound of protest from the furniture.

"Jace, huh? Is there something I should know about?" Captain Carstairs asked her, gesturing toward Jace, who was busy shooting pieces of paper at the trash can, shouting some basketball player's name when it landed inside the bin. A smile crept up her face as she watched him, for the first time, enjoying himself. Well, he had been enjoying himself earlier, but she didn't want to think of that with her captain so close to her.

"I don't know." Clary admitted, her eyes fluttering shut as she concentrated on the precinct's noises of fax machines and shouting civilians. When her eyes opened again, Captain Carstairs appeared to be worried. His shoes were clacking against the tile floor, something he did when he was either thinking or showing off his violin when the officers visited his house.

"Don't know?" He repeated. Clary nodded, wanting to drop the conversation as Jace was dropping papers.

"Yeah, as in he's been inside me, but not emotionally, at least, not in a personal way. I know nothing about him, Captain." Clary told him.

"Do you want my advice?" He asked her.

"Sure!" Clary gasped.

"Ask him what you mean to him, before sex of course. Guys are very dedicated." Jem blushed. Clary blushed at the thought of him giving relationship advice, or whatever her and Jace were.

* * *

His lips were pressed tightly to hers, his hand working the puzzle that was his zipper. Clary had her shirt off, just waiting for him to rip the last piece that hid her chest from his view. He was muttering pleads to her as he kissed her furiously. Clary needed him _so badly, _that only now did Jem's idea pop into her head.

"Jace?" She asked, stopping the pistoning of her hips against his covered waist.

"Yeah?" Jace panted, closing his eyes focus on rubbing against her. Clary pushed him back slightly, allowing him to look her in the eyes. "What is it, Clary?" He asked, worried now.

"What are we?" Clary questioned him. Jace's eyes popped out, gawking at her as she asked him the one thing he'd least expected. He shook his head, and Clary thought that was his way of rejection, starting to get off of him.

"Where are you going?!" Jace panicked. Clary shot him a hurt glare, picking up her shirt that he'd ripped off and thrown to the ground. "Clary?" He whispered.

"I-I can't do the meaningless sex thing, Jace." She answered sheepishly. His brows pressed together, as if he could squash her doubt between them. A frown of hurt masked his once euphoric expression, as if she'd just declared herself celibate.

"Oh really? And you _weren't _going to sleep with that guy at the club?" Jace blurted, reaching to cover his mouth immediately after he'd spoken the venomous words. Clary swallowed heavily, grabbing her boots off of the ground and shoving them on over her shoes. She just wanted to leave his apartment, to go back to her home where he no longer stayed. "Wait, I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean _what _Jace? As if you weren't any clearer!" She growled, adjusting her leather jacket over her arms. Then, she started to laugh, although with a twinge of a a swollen throat. "I can't _believe _I thought you'd actually cared about _this!" _She gestured between them with her hand. Jace looked down in shame.

"It's not like I don't _care _about you." He whispered. She scoffed at him, heading for the door when she allowed herself to look back at him, possibly for the last time she'd see him shirtless. His muscles were rolled over each other, his zipper halfways down and his feat free from any shoes or socks.

"It's a shame this didn't work out, because I care too much for you." She said, walking out of his bedroom and slamming the door on him.

* * *

Meaningless? Is that what she thought of them? She couldn't do meaningless sex, so she had to leave him, _great. _Jace smothered his hand to his face, wiping off any feeling for the redhead, but he found that he couldn't, not like he did with the girls he slept with in his younger years. Now here he was, thirty, his heart throbbing in his chest for some reason he'd never felt. He was raised better than to admit his feelings for someone. That was a sign of weakness, taught by his one and only father.

When he stood up from his ruffled sheets, he found that his pained chest made him sway. It was as if a piece of him was gone, and now he was empty without that piece. The longer the minutes passed that she wasn't in his bed, under her or at least beside him, the pain grew to a throbbing echo of loneliness. Jace growled, cursing himself for ever showing feeling for her at all, but deep down those moments where she was _his _might have been the best of his miserable life.

"Damn you, Clarissa Fairchild." Jace mumbled, but of course he knew he didn't mean it. He could never say something like that to her, even after the state she left him in. She _would _give him another chance to prove himself to her, whether she knew it or not. He was going to march over to the precinct tomorrow, and corner her until he could explain his hesitation. He could say that his feelings were crushed that she did not already know that he wanted her, that he lashed back at her like he was trained to do when he was in emotional distress.

* * *

**So Jace has problems admitting his feelings? **

**Thoughts?**


	14. Lit Flame

Her body ached, but not from what they had done, from what they _hadn't _done. She half expected him to be lying next to her on her bed, but instead she was alone. Alone, something she thought she'd be used to by now. For the past few days, she'd woken up to peppering kisses and tracing tongues. When she woke up today, there was nothing to sizzle against her skin as she lay clothed in her cold bed. Today she would have to see him, and pretend that whatever happened last night meant nothing to her, that she'd actually been fine when she cried herself along the cold walk home.

"Be strong Clary." She told herself when she looked at her face in the mirror. She hadn't even bothered to change when she arrived home. Her mascara was smeared like the drunken girls she had to drive home. It infuriated her that Jace had insinuated her to be exactly one of them.

Clawing off her shirt, she replaced it with a silk top that her mother had bought her on her birthday. Since her jeans were clean, she opted to stay in them. The girl in the mirror stared back at her, looking as if she were struggling to hold in tears that had already been cried out. Clary shook her head, not wanting to cry over a man that had insulted her as he was about to unbutton his jeans. He cared about her, just not enough to actually be with her of course. He didn't even call her after she'd left his home, as if he didn't know that she had drove along with him to his house, expecting a good outcome from her question.

There was one person that Clary could count on that wouldn't want to talk about the ending of her brief intimacy with Jace, and that person was Simon. As awkward as he was, there was no chance he'd want to know about they way Jace held her as they rocked together in her medium sized bed.

"Hello?" Simon chirped after the third ring of her calling.

"Simon! Are you doing anything right now?" Clary questioned.

"No, unless that's a universal question, because right now I don't know where I'm headed right now. If I could be _doing _so much _more!" _

"Not a universal question, dummy. I meant to ask if you could pick me up?" Clary's voice climbed a few octaves as she asked her best friend, begging him not to ask about Jace

"Uh, sure. Be there in ten, Fairchild. I'll honk twice. After that, you gotta jump in." She could practically _hear _Simon smile on the other line. Hanging up with a groan, Clary looked at herself one last time, making sure every curl was in place, and ever streak of eyeliner was perfection in its truest form. She placed her keys in her pocket, ready to take her car from the precinct parking lot after work.

Just like he said, Simon honked twice, starting to pull out before he heard her screeching at him to stop, pulling out her badge to warn him of her anger. He stopped of course, not without laughing at her as she had to smile to settle the scared pedestrians. They were partners, and doing so meant that they could be this way with each other without question.

"I noticed your makeup isn't smeared, wanna talk about it?" Simon perked up a brow, seeing if she would open up to him at least.

"Maybe later. All I want to do right now is bury myself in work." Clary shrugged, staring out the window to avoid looking at her best friend, for if she did, Clary didn't know if she could hold in the tears that were starting to brim her eyes.

"I'm sorry, it's protocol," Simon said, sliding a CD into the waiting slit. At first she didn't know, but the moment the song _I'm Just a Kid _started playing, she started to growl.

"Why the hell are you playing this _now? _Can't you play it when I'm in a better mood?" Clary seethed. Simon shrugged guiltily.

"You know our deal. If you're nervous in the car and we're on our way to work, this song has to be played. Makes you feel like the new kid." Simon explained. She knew of this deal, they played the damn song when Clary and Simon arrived for their first day on the job. The brick building arrived in sight, just as the song began to reach its climax. Just as the song demanded, she put on a worried frown and gathered her bag, slinging it over her back as if she were _in fact _the new kid.

"Have a nice day!" Simon called from the car, about to leave her to park it, but not before making a scene.

"I wanna go home!" Clary sobbed into her hands.

"Sweetheart, we both know that this job will help us." Simon soothed falsely. She couldn't help the small grin that was spreading to her face. "Did you pack your lunch?" Simon asked in his motherly voice.

"_Yes, Mom_!" Clary huffed, rolling her eyes. "Stop embarrassing me!" She whined to him. Simon clutched his mouth as if he were holding back sobbs, wiping a false tear from his humored eyes.

"Remember what I taught you sweety, open mind, closed legs!" Simon said before veering off with a squeak. Clary's mouth hung open in _actual _embarrassment as several arriving officers stared at her with gawking eyes and masked chuckles. Flipping them the bird, she trudged into the precinct with a prideful smile. Simon had done a good job cheering her up, despite the embarrassment.

"I heard Simple Plan! What's wrong?" Jem said, sprinting to her with open arms. Clary let out a breath at the hug that seemed to take forever to arrive, soothing the personal hell that was brewing inside her. She smothered her head into his clothed shoulder, Jem hugging her tightly, much to her relief.

"Can we not talk about it right now?" Clary whispered, eyeing her co-workers. He pulled back from their hug, Jem was so kind, to kind to be working at a place who dealt with people who knew of no such thing.

"Talk later, yeah?" Jem asked, she nodded, starting her stroll to her desk that was perched amongst the madness of the friday criminals. Some woman was screeching at a man, saying that he had touched her child while another man was yelling that his boss had wrongfully accused him of stealing, slamming a handwritten note on Simon's desk. At least it wasn't Jace that had approached her, not yet anyways. Jace looked far too confident to let her break things off smoothly.

Her phone rang, pulling her out of her daydreaming to answer the crying machine.

"Detective Fairchild, to whom may I be speaking to?" Clary asked, sounding formal. There was a noticeable pause before the caller answered with a shy, feminine voice.

"Detective Fairchild, this is Maia Roberts." Clary pressed her brows together in confusion, not knowing just who was calling. The caller spoke up again. "You previously knew me as Maia Kyle, at my apartment, hair being pulled and such." She answered. Clary's thigh throbbed at the clarification, as if she could be hurt again just by hearing the last name. "I was wondering, if it would so bad as to ask you visit with me, to give you a thank you?" Her voice squeaked, and Clary found herself shrugging, looking at the small stack of paper on her desk.

"Um, sure. Where at?" Clary asked timidly.

"Ever heard of Taki's diner?" Maia questioned.

"Yeah." Clary answered, nodding to herself.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind coming now, I could be there in around four minutes." Maia confirmed.

"Then I'll see to it that I get there soon." Clary hung up, already slinging her jacket over her shoulders and slid her purse over her right arm. She sucked in a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before marching up to Jem's office.

"I got a call," She said, gesturing to her desk phone. "Maia Roberts, previously Kyle, wants to meet up and talk." Jem's eyes widened in shock. "I was wondering, Captain, since I can't really do much here, if I could go meet her?" He cleared his throat, stacking up some papers before facing her again.

"If you think it's a good idea, then go. But I swear if another Kyle pulls a gun out on you, I _will _seek vengeance." Jem vowed. Clary gave a sympathetic smile before fluttering out of his office dashing across the tile floors of the precinct. Simon quirked an eyebrow as she crossed the threshold that led to the chaos that was her workplace.

"Later, Mom!" Clary shouted, laughing as she walked toward the front doors to exit. She thought she heard him say something back, so she turned to listen in, not paying attention to just what and _who _was in front of her.

"Sorry." She mumbled as she turned back, not being able to hear Simon. Someone pressed their arm against her shoulder, stopping her completely. "Huh?" Clary blurted, her head whipping out to face the person who was halting her exit.

"Clary?" Jace verified. Whether or not he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, they looked wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them. Clary reminded herself that if he truly cared for her, that he'd be looking fresh, having gotten a night's worth of sleep after they made what she might have called love if they'd known each other longer.

"I, uh," Her eyes started to sting and her throat started to swell, all because he looked at her with those same pained golden eyes that captivated her every time she looked at him. He was engrossing, deliciously engrossing, even as he was dressed in wrinkled clothes and his hair a mess with matching bags under his eyes. "I have to go..." She said to him before pushing his shoulder aside.

"Clary, wait!" Jace called after her, probably see her wipe her arm across her face in an attempt to conceal her now runny nose. "We need to talk!" He shouted at her, halting her with anger that began to pool in her stomach. She wanted to kick at his ankles, but perhaps that would reveal too much if she did so. Instead, she wore a cold stare that made him shiver.

"Talk?" She repeated, him nodding nervously. "What is there to talk about Jace? You told me everything I needed to hear last night." Clary snapped, finally trudging to her parked car after seeing his shocked expression. His feet had moved toward her, as if he wanted to dash to her side, _like he didn't last night, _Clary added.

Once her key slid into the ignition, she allowed herself to cry against her steering wheel, cursing the Herondale man.

* * *

"I'm so glad you came." Maia said warmly, Clary pressing a cup of coffee to her lips. "Look, I know you think I'm going to apologize profusely for Jordan's actions, and I _am _sorry, but I wanted to talk to you because I was hoping you would be the one person that wouldn't ask me why I didn't leave him." Maia let out a gust of air after the quick sentence.

"I've seen cases like this before, it isn't your fault the way he was." Clary softly promised, giving Maia an honest expression. The woman looked relieved.

"Maybe it's because I wanted to keep my family together, or that I didn't want my daughter to grow up asking about her father?" Maia shrugged, thinking out loud to the detective.

"My mother, she got together with my father because she couldn't believe a guy like him would like a girl like her, let alone love her." Clary began hesitantly. Maia seemed to be observed in her family history, so she continued. "They did everything by the books, you know? Date for a few years before getting married, and eventually she had my brother, Jonathan." Clary spoke. "It wasn't until after that until my mother began to realize my father was a crooked cop, arresting the innocent based on his own rules. She read one of his journals, how he'd detail his brutal interrogations." Clary swallowed hard, clearing her throat afterward.

"He was recruiting followers, to involve people in his scheme. My father was a smooth talker, and of course people listened to him. He sent my mother's best friend, Luke, on a faulty drug bust. He was stabbed with a needle full of heroin, and my father told Luke to kill himself after he'd become addicted. Instead, he ran away to rehab. My father was the cause of a violent shoot out, leaving several dead and even more imprisoned. After he was arrested, my mother found out she was pregnant with me. Our family name was tarnished, and it was her idea to change my last name. Jonathan wanted to keep our father's name, hoping to bring light to the tarnished name when he'd gotten a job in law enforcement." Maia was engrossed in the story Clary told.

"So what was that all supposed to mean?" Maia whispered.

"It _means _that there's still hope after such devastation. My mother turned from being the wife of a wicked man, to a woman who had two successful children and moved on to marry her best friend Luke, even having another child." She clarified.

"Really?" Maia asked.

"Really." Clary promised.

* * *

"So why did you invite me to your office?" Jace asked Captain Carstairs.

"You went undercover in the military right, special ops?" The captain asked him. Jace nodded with a grim expression. "Well," He began. "Our precinct has gotten seen drug trafficking increase dramatically over the past few years. A name has come up, Camille Belcourt." He explained. "Word has spread that she's in New York, and I want you to go undercover." Captain Carstairs finished.

"What?" Jace whispered.

"Look, I know you're new, but everyone else has family, a weakness in the eyes of our enemies. From your background, it says you're an orphan, adopted to a Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood. Now, it took special digging to find that out, so they'd be safe." He reassured. "Unless, there is something keeping you here?" Captain Carstairs questioned.

Jace thought about Clary, about how mad she'd been at him today. She deserved better than an emotionally mute man for a lover. She was so fragile, more than she let on. Jace had seen enough to know that if he'd ever break her heart, her already tender heart, there wouldn't be much for her to hold on to. Her fiery hair was the flame lighting the monstrous shadows in his world, and if letting her go meant that the flame would continue to burn, then so be it.

"I'll do it."


	15. Mascara

Clary's stomach was doing flip flops when she returned to the precinct. She knew for a fact that _he _was there, and that he wanted to talk. Why did everyone want to talk to her? How was it so hard to see that she didn't _want _to talk. Talking led to messes, and Clary was a relatively clean person. Mess free was how she wanted to leave, and Jace Herondale might as well have been a pig to her.

If he wanted to talk to her so bad, why didn't he do it a long time ago before he followed her out into the alley of the club? How long had it been since she'd first been with him? A couple of weeks? Plenty of time to tell her he wasn't looking for anything serious. Clary's phone buzzed in her pocket, just as she was to enter the brick building. Simon's contact name was flashing when unlocked her phone.

**_Dude, Jem's taking us out to lunch! You should come! _**

**I'm already inside the building. **She replied with frustration meant to possess the message. The hallways were devoid of any activity either than the secretary typing away whatever it was that secretaries typed. A few janitors were mopping the floors glistening, and Clary said her apologies as she crossed the slippery tile to the precinct. When her wet shoes squeaked on the precinct floor, a familiar golden haired man lifted his head in surprise.

There was a stack of papers and remnants of a sandwich on his desk. His computer screen was casting a fluorescent light on him, his golden eyes appearing a chilling yellow; a warning sign to those who grew to attached to him. Clary's heart skipped a beat, then it raced in her chest as they both stared at each other. She walked over to her desk, feeling him stare at her as she discarded her leather jacket at her desk chair. Just as she had assumed, he was staring when she turned back to face him.

"Everyone went out for lunch..." He started, looking guilty as he focused his gaze on his lap. "I thought you left," Jace added. Clary swallowed heavily, trying to stabilize her heartbeat as he continued talking words that meant nothing to her.

"I went out to talk to Maia Kyle." She answered his unspoken question. When he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes were filled with bits of worry and frustration.

"Please tell me you went somewhere public and not a secluded area?" Jace groaned. She didn't know why he was angry at her, she wasn't a rude person. How could she not talk to a widow of a man who'd shot Clary and then himself.

"We talked at a diner. I don't see why you care." Clary muttered. Jace's hands were now in his hair, pulling at the ends with pent up emotions. She wanted to ask why he was so upset, but then again, she should remember not to care too much for him.

"Why _wouldn't _I care?" He answered with a growl. Jace stood up quickly, his chair sliding back a few feet as he abandoned it and approached her with stealth. Even if she wanted to, she could not see herself moving her stubborn legs that demand she stay and take whatever it be that he was about to give her.

"Jace..." She whispered, unsure of what he was about to do. He gripped the sleeve of her silk shirt, pulling it down to where it encased her hand. He did the same to her other hand, all while she stood motionless. Both her hands trapped in her shirt, Jace pulled again, dragging her against his hardened chest. She had no way of fighting him, no will to fight him off should she have discovered one.

"I found you, a wounded animal at the precinct. You wore this beautiful, _fake _smile that had everyone fooled. The only way I saw through that smile was because I had worn the same one since I got back from the war, a bullet in my shoulder. Each day that I took care of you, I watched you open up to me as if I was a chest you could lock away all your secrets in and throw away after you saw no more use for me. Each step you took, each damn step made me realize that you would do anything to appear as if you weren't damaged. We are two haves to the same being, Clary." Jace said smoothly, though his voice was ragged as he pleaded to her. "Now, ask me again. Ask me if I care for you."

"Do you care about me?" Clary barely whispered to him, against his expanding chest; his hands still locked around her sleeves. Suddenly, he pushed her back, leaning his head down to her neck that he could barely get to without having to sit down. His lips were raking down the smooth skin of her neck, down her pulse and to the dip of her collar bones, before pulling up back to the base of her chin.

"More than you'll ever know." He breathed. That was all he or she could take as he brought his lips hard against her waiting, parted ones, slipping his hot tongue through the entrance and greeting hers with an eager banter. Jace released her hands, Clary now gripping her fingers tight in his golden streams of hair. She didn't realize that he had lifted her until the cool surface of her desk had greeted under her.

"Clary?" He asked, unsure whether to continue or not.

"Please." She groaned, holding onto him for all she was worth. He pushed her all the way down, her back sending her papers to the edge of the desk. He looked absolutely marvelous, the light of the precinct causing him to cast a tall shadow over her. His golden eyes appeared dark with lust and need as he tugged off his shirt. She took the own time to rip open the buttons of her own.

"God, they get bigger every time." Jace breathed, kissing up her abdomen to her lips. His throbbing zipper ground against her jeans, and she moaned loudly, not caring if someone were to walk in on them. With wandering hands, he gripped her tender chest, and she thought that she would surely die if he touched her for longer. But he continued, massaging her tender swells of breast with his calloused hands. Finally, she couldn't take a second more of his ministrations and pushed him back, attaching her mouth to each of his tattoos.

Her tongue traced each one, each beautiful mark that magnified his strong appearance. He pushed her back, and she feared that he'd touch her to a release, but instead he crawled on top of her, allowing her to continue her actions. Her tongue dipped between his belly button, tracing around it for a second before she brought her lips back to his.

"I'm gonna miss this," He groaned against her lips, begging for more with the flick of his tongue. She pulled back though, giggling at him.

"Don't you mean you miss this?" Clary laughed, stopping when his face flushed scarlet.

"No, I don't." Jace argued softly. Now she sat up, worried about what he was talking about. They were both sitting on her desk now.

"Jace?" Clary asked with more than a hint of panic. "What's going on?" His head lowered, taking her hands in his.

"You know the rumors of Camille Belcourt being in New York, right?" He asked and she nodded. "Later today, I'm going undercover-" At that, she pushed herself off the desk, furiously buttoning shirt before tugging her leather jacket over the wrinkled sleeves that his hands were to blame. "What's wrong?" He said, standing next to her as she readjusted herself.

"Do you honestly expect me to be okay with the ninety percent chance of you dying or not returning?" Clary snapped, shaking her head maddeningly at Jace. She wondered if he could see the tears stinging at her eyes. "No one has returned from an undercover mission in their drug smuggling. You'll be dead before you can introduce yourself, and I can't be close to you if choose to do this!" Clary shouted.

"This is an honor! I can't just let them pollute the city with their narcotics!" Jace argued, pulling at his hair roughly as he tried to explain.

"An honor to have served with you!" Clary shot back sarcastically. "I'm sorry, but the last time someone I cared about went undercover, he brought back death and destruction to family. To our Beth-" Clary broke off, sobbing into her hands. "I had to give up a child that I loved so much, because I was too sick! Too messed up to support any life!" Her tears had become angry, her nose scrunched up as she cried.

"Please, don't say it, don't say what I think you're going to say." Jace whispered.

"Then I guess I won't have to say it." Clary said, grabbing her purse and leaving the precinct with what little reason she had. The other officers were arriving, and when she saw Simon, she pulled him to her.

"Tell Captain I need the day off, maybe even week." Clary ordered. Simon tried to swipe at the falling tears, but she just shook him off and headed toward her car. Her head rested against the cold steering wheel, crying heavily with whatever energy she possessed after the emotionally draining argument. The New York streets blurred as she drove down them, the occasional car honking at her as she accidently swerved to the wrong lane. Clary would curse at them, vowing to check their records when she returned to work.

Mascara dipped into her sensitive eyes, burning her with more tears, causing her to lose all sense of direction on the road. She could only hear cars swerve around her, her own car out of control until there was a strong force stopping her, sending her head smacking into a hard surface.


	16. Broken Bones

There were sirens blazing throughout the New York skies. Familiar colors reflected off of the skyscrapers near her. Someone was shouting orders, though not at her, at the people _helping _her. Swirls of reality and fantasy danced together in her head. A light, artificial, shined in her eyes, moving now and then at the command of a voice, a thick velvety voice that she had recognized from two years ago. Pain was pulsing in her forehead, but not as badly as to make her worry. She'd experienced more pain when her mother had her play soccer as a kid and she got hit in the face trying to defend the goal.

"Clary?" The velvety voice asked her. Reality stopped quivering enough to see gel'd up hair and sweat come together to form a person. His eyes were angular, like a cats with the addition of subtle makeup he added. Sunshine beat down on him in sparkles, making him glitter, or maybe he was just covered in the substance.

"Maggy?" Clary chuckled, laughing at his worried face.

"You do realize that we just pulled you out of a wrecked car? People are crying for god sakes!" Magnus groaned, not being able to hide his smile once he realized that she was in fact okay. Knocked unconscious, but okay.

"How does she look?" Clary asked with her eyes shut tight.

"The car? Well, first of all, your side is royally fucked. Someone didn't slow down at a stop sign and wrecked into you." Magnus explained, and she wanted to cry out of relief that it wasn't her fault for the accident, but also in the sadness that her vehicle was destroyed.

"How about me? Think I can make it home today?" Clary asked as they placed her in the ambulance, her neck encased in a strange frame. Familiar rubber was cold against her fabricated back. Magnus looked up, chuckled as he walked in the back of the ambulance after she had been settled in.

"Right now, I think you just have a mild concussion. Which is considered _extremely _lucky if you look at your car." Clary frowned again, not wanting to know just how much of a shit storm she was going to be in with insurance payments.

"Can't you just snap your manicured fingers and send me home?" She groaned at him.

"I may save lives, but I don't practice magic, Clary." Magnus stated the obvious. Clary would have punched him had it not been for the ragged fabric holding down her limbs to keep her from slipping off of the orange surface.

"So what will I expect when I get to the hospital?" Clary asked him. Magnus touched his chin, pondering for a few seconds while she just listened to the sound of the sirens blaring from outside white ceiling above them.

"Probably check you for a concussion. I know for a fact that you're going to need x-rays on your ribs because, let's face it, your stomach was as purple as a grape when I checked it out. It was more in the chest area, so that won't make us worry about any of your lower organs rupturing, but broken ribs should be checked for. Doctors will ask the same thing, if there's a chance of you being pregnant before they scan you, yadayada." Magnus sighed. "But since you've been going at it with my brother in law, I should ask you; is there a possibility?" Magnus' eyes were raised in question as Clary stuttered her answer.

"No, I mean, yeah I mean no. Absolutely no chance. Zilch." Clary vowed to both Magnus and herself. She thought back to all their intimate moments, wondering if he'd shielded himself before entering her sacred temple. "Zero chance." Her voice raised an octave, and Magnus picked it up.

"We're checking." Magnus stated. Clary's heart started to race, the monitor beeping furiously as she worried about the possibility. "Clary, calm down! You're going to have a panic attack!" Magnus shrieked at her, gripping her hand tightly in hopes of providing structure.

"Magnus, I can't be! He's, he's going undercover!" Clary cried out. "I thought I could handle it when I was pregnant with Beth," Clary choked out her daughters name heavily, Mangus tightening around her palm. "Sebastian nearly missed his daughter's birth, and almost got killed showing up. If he hadn't gone undercover, he'd be alive right now, and I wouldn't be in here worrying if I was... pregnant with Herondale's baby." Admitting it was just as bad as thinking it, but at least her heart rate slowed to an acceptable pace.

"Can't you stop him? I'll call him right now if I need to!" Magnus said, whipping out his iPhone. Her arms shook against their restraints at the very thought of him thinking that she was pregnant with his child.

"No! You can't! He's already leaving today!" Clary sobbed, not knowing exactly why she was crying.

"Leaving? As whether he knows or not, he won't see his figurative child?" Magnus whispered. She nodded, gulping down burning sobs as she thought about carrying his baby. No, she corrected herself, she couldn't be pregnant. Not after what had happened not so long ago.

* * *

"Relax Clary," Magnus soothed. "They're coming up now, and then we can finally calm you down." He chuckled. White suited doctors came passed by the opening door, a pink-shirted nurse carrying a wooden board that held several papers walked into the office. She smiled at Clary, and then sat in the stool with wheels that squeaked whenever she moved. A loose hospital gown was wrapped around Clary, ventilation making uncomfortable cold drafts seep into the think fabric.

"Ah, Clarissa Fairchild." The nurse smiled, flipping through the sheets of heavily filled paper. "It seems that you are waiting on a pregnancy test to get an x-ray." Clary nodded, unsure of whether she'd be happy should there be new life growing inside her.

"Can you please tell her she's not pregnant so we can fix her up?" Magnus groaned. The nurse chuckled, checking her watch then looking back at Clary with a wary smile.

"You see, telling her that _would _calm her down... but it would be a lie." And with that, Clary slumped forward in Magnus' arms, sobbing heavily at the news. He whispered words of comfort in her ear as she held onto him for dear life.

"Clary, you do know that there is no pressure to keep the bab- _it_." The nurse corrected herself with a stern look. Both Magnus and the nurse were looking at Clary with concern, as if saying that she didn't want it would surely kill them. Hearing that her baby could be taken away, it scared her, making Clary clutch her stomach tightly.

"No!" She snapped, relaxing a bit at their startled expressions. "I-I want it," She finished silently. Her broken heart began to swell, as if the chance at becoming a mother was already changing her. Even if she couldn't say it, a stranger's baby wasn't what she wanted. The fact that the life growing inside her was part Jace, it made her swelled heart flutter, that she'd somehow still have him when they couldn't have each other.

"Clary, let's not forget that two years ago-"

"I'm ready now!" Clary interjected, still clutching her stomach in fear. "I'm fit to be a mother, I swear." She promised the undecided nurse. Magnus held her hand tight, sending small squeezes to her whenever he felt she would collapse from numbness.

"Then I'll give a minute to process this." The nurse stated, standing up and giving a small smile before shutting the office door with a small click. Clary let out a heavy sigh, her flat abdomen still encased in her arms.

"How do you think he'll take it?" Magnus asked her. She looked at him, chewing her lip nervously.

"I can't tell him, Magnus. I can't be responsible for another person dying just because I was, we were careless." Clary said, looking at her abdomen the entire time. "After Beth and my little boy, I won't let anything happen to this baby. Nothing." She promised the growing life.

"How am I going to go home and act as if my husband's brother isn't going to be a father?" Magnus asked with a groan, rubbing his forehead.

"You can't!" Clary gasped. "Motions are already at play right now, Jace should already be getting situated with his cover. Having to think of a pregnant woman while acting for his life, he won't survive under that kind of pressure!" Clary reasoned with Magnus.

"Promise me that this is what you want. Promise me that you won't be screaming out his name when you experience contractions or have to deal with colic." Magnus spoke with stern softness.

"I promise." Clary nodded.

* * *

**So nothing horrible happened, well nothing _immediately _horrible happened.**

**Thoughts?**


	17. Thank You

The prison looked dull. Threatening almost with its lack of color. Clary had been here a few years ago, but it was to tell her father that she did not want him to send her letters anymore. Valentine wasn't the kind of man to love, but Clary didn't know what he saw in her, whether it was her mother or his prodigy, she didn't know.

"Name?" The groggy guard asked her. Clary thought she might have remembered her from the few times she actually visited her father. Jocelyn had wanted Clary to meet him when she was a kid, and Valentine was all to happy about meeting a child he never knew he had. He would tell Clary that she was his own little Jocelyn, that he could trust her easily, that it was almost impossible to deny Clary anything if he could provide it. She hoped that his vow still worked, even after she'd stopped visiting him.

"Clarissa Fairchild, here to see Valentine Morgenstern." Clary answered. The guard had intimidating muscles clinging to her arms, and a tattoo with a man's name on it, though the tattoo was crossed out.

"Any relation?" The guard asked. Clary's patience was starting to wear thin with this woman. This guard had seen Clary grow up and only now she'd ask if she was related to the man in question?

"I'm his daughter, just check his visitors list. I'm on it." She answered with slight annoyance. The guard nodded, slowly walking back to her office to see if Clary was indeed on the list. A long minute later, she returned with little compassion.

"I'll send him in for visiting," The older woman smiled falsely. Clary glared knives at her back as she walked away again.

"Please don't make me one of those hormonal women." She groaned to her still flat abdomen. Someone cleared their throat, and Clary lifted her head to see the guard again, her brows pressed tightly in irritation. Clary wanted to flash her badge at the woman, to say that _she _was a real cop. That she didn't need to go through this process if she cared to skip it.

"Yes?" Clary growled. The woman smiled at how easily she could frustrate Clary.

"Come to the visiting area, he'll be in shortly." She replied with a too sweet voice. Clary started to walk across the glossy tile floor, passed the thick door that separated freedom and imprisonment. She was patted down, searched for weapons before she was allowed to enter the visiting area. When she did, she could see a man resembling Jonathan, but she knew it was not her sensitive brother. The man who had caused so much trouble, and here he was, scraping dirt from underneath his fingernails. She sat across from him on the metal chair, hating the cold feel of it.

"Clarissa?" Valentine smiled genuinely. It made Clary feel guilty that she was only there to ask him of things, to beg him of something that he wouldn't want to agree to.

"Valen- _Dad_." Clary cursed herself for starting to call him Valentine, but she couldn't help it when everyone in her precinct would call him Valentine, even her own mother would say things such as 'your father' but instead Valentine. Even as Clary was a young child, she would hear the man's first name, along with _monster. _

"Tell me, how are you?" Her father asked. Clary raised her shoulders, slinking her hands to her stomach. "I was so sorry to hear what had happened to your lovely family. To my grandchildren." Valentine grimaced at the memory, along with Clary as she did not want to think of such horrible times.

"Thank you," Clary whispered to him. Her father smiled to her, but then bowed his head, as if he were to pray for her loss.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but there's something I need you to do." Clary blurted, Valentine popping open his eyes to look at her incredulously.

"There is nothing to ask of me that I can give you, Clarissa." Valentine rolled his eyes as if to show where they were, in a prison visiting area.

"But there _is, _Dad." She said softly to him. Valentine waited for her with wide eyes and an open mind. "I need you to send me undercover, to have your men recruit me." Clary asked.

"_Why on Earth would you expect me to do that?" _Valentine said in a high pitched voice.

"Because, Dad. I'm pregnant." Clary answered, hugging her stomach to her. Valentine's eyes automatically shot to her midsection, seeing if there was a visible bump for him to see.

"Really?" He asked and she nodded. "Congratulations, but that just makes me want to reject you further. Please explain." He questioned.

"The father is undercover, Jace Herondale, and I need to find him. He's trying to bring down Camille Belcourt." Clary answered.

"Camille, that bitch." Valentine growled. She felt a small smile press against her mind, at how him already hating her would help her out. "Do you not realize the danger you face if you enter there? Not for just you Clarissa." He gestured to her hands that were placed against her.

"Your men will protect me, and maybe even help Jace." Clary reasoned. Her father pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking if he should go along with her plan.

"Fine, but you have to do as they say, no acceptions. I will not let another one of my grandchildren die." Valentine growled to himself, as if agitation could help him any more. Clary's eyes watered, wondering if it was because of the baby growing inside her or because her father could do such a thing for her.

"Thank you, Dad." Clary croaked, he nodded, and soon she had to leave him. The guard held his shoulder as they escorted him out, and Clary promised to visit him more should the plan work.

_"Thank you_." She sighed, eye lids lowering in relief. Her father wouldn't let anything happen to her, though even if she didn't trust him as a person, as a father he was the best he could be as a prisoner. Should her plan work, Clary thought, this child would see his or her grandfather. Both of them would owe it to Valentine.


	18. Mrs Wayland

His phone buzzed, and Jace growled at the smart phone, wishing for more sleep on the few days he could relax. Orientation was brutal here, it was as if they _knew _he was a cop. Several times he had to remind himself that he was Jace Wayland, and not Jace Herondale. They tested him by means of robbery, but Jem had the situation under control. That didn't mean the guns he held were any less real, or the screams of the people that didn't know the whole break in was an act. Once his loyalty was proven, they had began to speak of Camille, his target.

Jace pulled out his phone, seeing it was a text from Jem.

**_Got a surprise headed your way. Look decent ;) _**The text read. Jace was confused, and listening to his bosses words, he hopped out of his hotel bed and threw on some pants. Someone had begun to knock on the door before he could slip on a shirt, or find one that at least hadn't been coated in nervous sweat. He opted to just answer it, so slowly he walked to the hotel door, not bothering to check the peephole with his trust in his commander. His hand wrapped around the knob, twisting and pulling it open to see a sight for his dulled eyes.

Her cheeks were flushed, the rest of her face pale from the harsh winter they were going to face. A wool jacket was covering her, and even then his eyes dipped down to the curve of her neck and so on. Red hair was flaming around her shoulder, curling down to the middle of her back. Her green eyes were popped open in shock as she took in his bare chest. As delicate as he already saw her, there was some new tune to her fragileness, and Jace swore to himself that he would be gentle with her if she took him back.

"You came back?" Jace whispered. She looked down, her boot-covered toes sliding on the carpet of the hotel. He didn't wait for an answer, pulling her inside the safety of his room and hugging her tightly, her cold jacket burning against his heated chest. Summer and winter. "You came back to _me_." He corrected himself after she said nothing.

"We need to talk." Clary broke, pushing back gently, guiding him to the foot of his bed to where he could sit. Jace sat down, watching her pace for what seemed to take an eternity. "My father," Jace hissed at the mention, but she just rolled her eyes at him. "He got me an undercover position, now before you say anything, hear me out." Jace's shoulders slumped forward in defeat as he tuned his ears to her sweet voice. "His men will give us information that would otherwise take _months _to gain along with the trust of Camille's men. They will also protect me, and you if you'll let them." Clary explained.

"What's your undercover position?" Jace finally asked her.

"Your wife." She smiled slowly. His own expression matched hers, though his was a bit more mischievous.

"Why, why did you change your mind about being with me? I thought I'd never see you again the way you spoke of my future." There was pain in his voice as she questioned her. Clary's eyes shined down on him with more than the room lights providing the glistening effect. She wiped away at the excess shine, making Jace's chest ache at her shared guilt.

"I have something to tell you, and I don't know how you'll take it..." She started slowly. Jace's heart was beating a mile a minute as he thought of all the things that would make her need to see him so _badly. _There really was no reason that she would be in his hotel room while he, and now she were undercover. Why would she go to such great lengths to be with him? Love? No, she would have stayed with him from the beginning if it was love, and Jace felt wary to admit that he was angry that wasn't the reason.

"Is everything alright?" Jace's volume rose in worry. She spurt out something between a laugh and a sob, tears clogging her small throat.

"After I left the precinct, I got in an accident-"

"Are you alright? Is that why you're here, because of a near death experience?" Jace blurted. She shook her head, glaring that he had interrupted her. "So everything's alright?" Jace repeated with confusion.

"I went to the doctor, and they they wanted to check for any broken ribs, so they tested me for a few things, see if I smoked had I done it that day, if I was pregnant..." The way she drifted off made Jace's brows shot up in surprise. "Since there was a possibility, then tested me."

"And?" He pressed on.

"And now I'm here." She answered.

"You're pregnant... with my baby, sorry, I mean, I don't want to pressure you into something if you don't want to keep it." Jace stuttered, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. Arms that he wanted wrapped around him.

"I'm keeping the baby." Clary confirmed. "I'm not going to ask you for anything, because my transfer isn't permanent. Just say the word and you'll never see this child." Clary stated sternly. He felt hurt that she had assumed the worst with him.

"Why would you think I wouldn't want to be involved in my child's life?" Jace said with a pained tint to his velvety voice.

"Because I'm the one carrying this baby, and me and you..." She shook her head, her eyes beginning to shine again.

"But _because _it is you that makes me want to be so much more than a father who has shared custody with his kid." Jace argued softly, taking her hands in his and standing up to pull her flush against him.

"Are you sure, because you can't half ass this, Jace. You can't want to see our child one day and then the next be too busy trying to get laid to visit them." Clary asked against him. So that's why she figured he didn't want his child, because it was her that he wouldn't want. The idea of any other woman laying next to him in bed made his stomach roll in disgust.

"You're all I want." He stated. Clary gasped, pulling back to look at him with glistening emeralds in her eyes. He brushed the pad of his thumb against her damp cheek, her smiling at the caring gesture. "All I need." short, rapid breaths escaped her pink lips. "All I'll _ever_ need." Jace whispered, kissing the promise into her salty lips that had soon realized ached for him just as he did her.

She panted, her hands weaving into his golden waves at his scalp.

"Well then, Mrs. Wayland, it seems we have some time to make up for." Jace grinned, Clary giggling before falling onto the bed against his chest. But even if all they did was sleep, he was perfectly fine having her warm body against him. He'd never realize that his family had been so close to him when he opened his hotel door. Sure, she was his everything, but with a child being shared between them, there was permanence to their need for each other.

* * *

**Loving your reviews by the way!**

**Thoughts?**


	19. Five Weeks

Clary sat up straight in bed, her hand clutching her stomach.

"What is it?" Jace panicked.

"I think I need to pee." Her eyes were shut tight in concentration.

"Pee?" Jace repeated.

"No, puke. Definitely puke." Her other hand flew up to cover her mouth, then dashed off to the hotel bathroom. Jace laughed to himself, then hearing her heave into the toilet made him sprint into the bathroom. One hand on her stomach and the other holding tightly to the base of the porcelain toilet; he'd never seen her look more eye catching. She pulled back, resting her spine against the tub. She had stripped down to a camisole and his boxer shorts due to the heat in the room.

"You look beautiful." Jace blurted. Clary's eyes raked over to him with languidity, giving off a slow laugh after a few moments of silence.

'You're saying that now, but just wait a few months and you'll be saying otherwise." Clary laughed. It startled Jace to know that she could never view herself as extraordinary.

"I'll be saying what? That you're amazing? Breath taking? Gorgeous?" Jace asked her. She rolled his eyes at him, starting to get up before he could lean down and lift her with his strong arms.

"Did you forget that my leg has healed?" Clary recalled.

"No, but you're also pregnant with my child." Jace chided. She let out a sigh when he put her down in the comfortable bed. He didn't want to think about doing anything but spend the day in this very bed, doing only what was considered immoral and sinful. If she didn't want that, then at least they could lay next to each other and think about what was to come in the near future.

"When will we be able to find out what you're having?" Jace asked her once she had been situated comfortably.

"I'm five weeks along, Jace. We won't find out till I'm at least twenty." She giggled. Jace frowned, not wanting to call his one-of-a-kind child an _it_.

"Five weeks, huh?" Jace repeated. Clary smiled at him, her hand resting on her flat stomach that just urged him to search for the slightest evidence of his child growing.

"Well, technically six, but yes, five." She softly corrected.

"So, the baby was conceived on our first night together?" Jace asked her.

"Or the morning after that. You were insatiable." Clary laughed. His mind began to wonder over to that wonderful night, and when Clary caught on to his train of thought, she smacked him lightly.

"Sorry, can't help it." Jace chuckled, fiddling with the strings of his sweat pants as he thought of what to say to her. "Did you want her, when you found?" Jace asked. Clary's eyes brows shot up, and he didn't know why, not until he replayed the words in his head.

"She?" Clary repeated softly, her eyes starting to shine.

"Again, sorry. Whenever I imagine us as a family, it's a little girl that's in our arms." Jace said smoothly before Clary could make fun of him for being soft.

"You imagined us as a family, when?" Clary piped up. He laughed nervously to himself, pulling her on his lap; the mattress bouncing and he had to physically restrain himself to talking. Though, should he ever lose patience, he knew she'd want him just as badly.

"Okay, so I'm a hopeless romantic, but only when it comes to you." She started to bury her head in the crook of his neck as he was talking sweetly to her. "At first, it started when we were laying in bed with each other the morning after our first night." Jace began. "I began to imagine just how good it would be to wake up every morning like that: with you in my arms. Then I realized we'd have to be married for that to be every morning, because dating seemed to loose of a title for us. After that, my mind started to wander further..." Clary lifted her head, peppering his face with kisses only she could manage to make him blush.

"When I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to hit you for not using protection." Clary blurted.

"Is that so?" Jace asked.

"Yeah, I wondered if I wasn't the first girl you impregnated." She continued. His heart did a strange dip in his chest as she talked about her feelings; it was as if he felt guilty for not thinking of protection sooner. After all, he wasn't prepared to go home with someone that night, let alone the girl he was looking after. "I wasn't mad at the baby though. It was blameless in all of this, no matter how bad of a situation it peeked its little head in." Clary laughed.

"Why didn't you call me when you found out?" Jace asked her. Clary shrugged, running her fingers down his bare chest. Jace brought his hand to hers, holding her hand securely in his to stop her from getting his heart worked up. "Don't distract me." He chided.

"Right, back to the question." She huffed. "I didn't call you right away because I was _scared._ Not of your reaction, okay well kind of your reaction. I was scared that you'd be so desperate to see us that you'd slip up and get yourself killed." She croaked, his chest becoming slightly damp when she had finished talking.

"I won't leave you, Clary. Both of you."

"How sure are you about that?" Clary asked him.

"As sure as I am handsome." Jace smirked. He didn't have to look down to know that she had rolled her eyes.

"So, not sure at all?" Clary teased. His patience snapped right there, pushing her gently to where she was laying in the center of the bed, his legs straddling her hips.

"Not handsome am I?" Jace breathed against her neck. Her nodding made her chin bump his nose, and he could feel goose bumps raise across her ivory skin.

"Not at all."


	20. Insight

"Calm down Clary." Jace warned her as they approached the men that could kill them should they not buy their names. Clary nodded worriedly, as if her being pregnant was not enough to make him want to protect her. Valentine's men stood in the shadows, guns holstered to their waist in case they were needed.

"Ah, Wayland. Who is this?" A dark haired man smiled at Clary, and she felt as if the baby inside her shuddered at the cautious grin.

"This, is my wife, Clarissa Waylands." Jace smirked at her, though his sweaty palms showed her that he was in fact worried for her. At least this proved that he was just as human as she. That some things were worth getting scared for.

"What a lovely name," The man spoke with a rich accent, cupping Clary's hand to kiss it in a welcoming gesture.

"Thank you." She barely whispered, wiping his saliva on her jeans as she leaned her head into Jace's shoulder.

"Perhaps she should wait out here, yeah?" The man asked Jace as if Clary were not standing beside him. Jace nodded, whispering words of comfort to her as he left her alone when the office door shut on her. Clary turned to her side, looking at the other woman who were told to wait while their husbands,-well in Clary's example, _fake _husbands- went to a meet. A woman held a sleeping infant in her hands, and Clary wondered how the woman dealt with being married to a mobster.

"Your son is handsome," Clary said gently to the woman, causing her to blush at the compliment. "What's his name?" She added.

"Aeron." The woman answered with a smile, stroking the infants face with her manicured finger.

"Sorry, it's just, when you're pregnant, you notice every baby as if it were your own." Clary apologized.

"Pregnant, first time mom then?" The woman grinned.

"Yeah," Clary nodded falsely. She didn't think telling about her previous children would help much in holding up a false identity. The infant was snoring softly in the woman's arms, and Clary marveled at how angelic he appeared.

"How far along are you?" The woman asked.

"Ten weeks as of today, the father just found out a couple of weeks ago." She admitted. Being here, talking with this woman, it had all seemed too easy to her as she had seen Jace enter and leave their hotel room in the past four weeks with a tired smile on his face.

"They're so protective when it comes to their young." The woman stated, and Clary had to admit that she'd struggled getting Jace to bring her along with him.

* * *

"So we should be expecting a shipment in the docks on Thursday, remember that or you're dead, Pangborn." The foreign man growled, papers in his hands. Jace was nervous as to leaving Clary outside, possibly unprotected as he discussed narcotics in the office.

"Got it," The supposed Pangborn answered quickly.

"Sure? Because if Camille finds you MIA, you'll find out why we call her a vampire." The man reminded in a threatening tone. Jace wanted to ask exactly why they chose such a strange name for their boss, but didn't press on the subject.

"Speaking of Camille, Wayland, are you good for Thursday to arrange the drop?" The man asked Jace, who nearly shook with fear and loathing for him and his connections.

"Yes, Emil. Let me just speak to my wife about it so that she doesn't worry when I'm gone." Jace answered without a drop of the fright that was pulsing alongside his heart.

"Good." Emil said, clapping his hands against his thick thighs and standing up. Pangborn stood, and Jace too, heading for the door. When Pangborn had left, Jace's shirt collar was pulled, sending him skidding backwards with a ready fist. Emil was smirking at him when he steadied his footing. The threatening mustache on his face twitched up along with the smirk. Jace was able to see a glimmering scar when the mustache stretched far enough.

"Remember, Wayland. One mustn't refuse Camille." The man said before releasing him with little care. Jace might have quickened his pace when he realized his was pulling Clary to him when he left the office.

"You okay?" Clary said with growing worry. Jace gulped down fear, nodding at her and winding his hand around her hip, around their child. In this, Jace was able to steady his breathing enough to talk to Clary.

"There's going to be a shipment on Thursday," Brief confusion crossed her face before her eyes widened in realization.

"I'll have Valentine's men watch you." She stated flatly, no hint of an argument in her voice. Jace didn't want to argue with her either, so he muttered an agreement. By the words Emil had spoken, Jace was worried about what Camille was to ask of him. He drove for a while before Clary sat up in alarm.

"Where are you going? Did you forget about the appointment?" Clary reminded him with a tight chuckled.

"Shit, I did forget." The car made a slight squeal as he turned quickly, headed toward the local hospital that Clary had made the appointment with. He checked the time on the car radio, and they were just on time as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Calm down, Jace." Clary mocked in his voice. Jace gave a slight smile as they walked into the waiting room. Woman with rings on their fingers sat gushing along with their husbands, talking about what a happy future both them and their child would have. When he turned to face Clary, she was looking at the happy couples. An idea popped into her head, great or not, and fished in his pocket for the ring he'd brought along. Jace gently held her hand, sliding the family ring on her small finger. She gasped when she looked to see what he was doing.

"Are you _seriously _going to propose to me while we wait to see our child's health?" Clary scoffed, her eyes wide with disbelief. His heart smacked against his ribs in humiliation, but he shook a _no _at her.

"I wanted you to be happy. So that you know I love you-" She gasped again. "What? What is it? Is it the baby?" Jace asked with growing panic.

"You, you love me?" Oh, that's what she was surprised at, Jace thought as he realized he hadn't ever said the words to her.

"More than you'll ever know," He said, repeating his previous words to her when they were at the precinct. She nodded, teary eyed. Jace held in his breath, waiting for her response. "You know, this usually is the moment where you say you love me back." Jace commented with a nervous grin.

"Clarissa Wayland?" A nurse blurted, disrupting their moment. Jace shot daggers at her in his head, but resumed to help Clary out of her seat; though her stomach was still flat in her early pregnancy stage.

They walked down to a small office, the nurse rinsing her hands for some apparent reason. Jace watched Clary sit down on the elevated rubber mattress that had a thin sheet of wax paper protecting it. This rose suspicion in him, as he wanted to know just _what _might spill. The nurse chatted with Clary, making small talk about her going to be a mother and such while the doctor was on her way.

"How's morning sickness? Not too violent is it?" The nurse asked sweetly to a relaxed Clary.

"Uh, awful. After I'm finished puking, I go and pee as if I've held in my bladder for a day!" Clary told the nurse, who laughed; muttering something about first time mothers, though Jace knew Clary wasn't having her first child.

"And how's Daddy?" The nurse said, eyeing Jace. His heart did a flip at the word _Daddy. _It was the first time someone hadn't used the word in a provocative way, and in its actual meaning. A betraying blush rose up his face and settled at his cheeks.

"Insatiable." Clary stated flatly. The nursed and her shared a moment of amusement before she excused herself. Moment's later, a young dark-haired woman entered the room.

"Hello, Clarissa. My name is Dr. Owens." The woman said softly, sheathing her hands in the blue gloves Jace had seen paramedics wear when Clary had been shot. Now was a very different scenario, Jace thought.

"You can just call me Clary. And this is my husband Jace." He felt satisfied when she added husband to his brief introduction.

"Well then Clary, I'm sure the nurse has asked you of any abnormalities you might be feeling, yes?" Clary and Jace both nodded. "Then let's get the main event started!" The doctor smiled at them both. "I'm going to have to ask you to lift up your shirt for me." Clary did as Dr. Owens said, her shirt just barely stopping below her breast. She pulled out a small wand, warning Clary of the coldness of the gel before applying it to her stomach. Clary squeezed Jace's hands tightly as she adjusted to the dramatic temperature.

Applying the wand to Clary's stomach, Jace and Clary both stared at the small TV placed next to the small bed. There was a swishing sound, reminding Jace of the time's he'd been out in a third world country and the signal was poor for calling. Jace was confused at first, waiting for something to show until he saw Clary's tears.

"What is that noise?" Jace asked, feeling stupid.

"It's the baby's heartbeat." Clary choked out. Now, the annoying sound might as well have been the best song he'd ever hear. The thumping of his child's heart was bring him quickly to tears. For all his life, Jace was just trying to care for himself, but now there was a whole other life that depended solely on him. The time for being irresponsible was over, he was going to be a father.

"Is it supposed to be that fast?" Jace asked the doctor.

"Yes," She rolled her eyes at his protectiveness of his unborn child.

The small screen flashed to life, a mass of white in its center.

"And there is..." The doctor began, moving the wand around.

"Our baby." Clary finished. Jace could feel his eyes begin to sting at the perfect sight, but blinked furiously, trying to hold back tears for the sake of his pride. The small mass on the screen occasionally moved around in a tremor, making Clary croak out a few laughs at the way it was shifting.

"Your baby appears to be perfectly healthy for ten weeks, Clary." The doctor said.

"Here you can see his little head." The doctor moved the wand around, and Jace had to squint to see what she was talking about. His mouth hung open, and a betraying tear escaped his eye. Jace wanted to correct the doctor and say that they were having a girl, but instead he listened on, looked at the parts of their child she was naming.

"Can we get a copy of the video, along with a picture?" Jace blurted, wanting to remember the moment for the rest of his life. The doctor laughed out a 'yes' before handing a wad of paper towels for Clary to wipe the blue goo off with. When they were given the copies he'd asked for, Clary dragged him to one of the secretaries, making an appointment for a few weeks later.

He was quiet when they left, replaying the beautiful moment in his head a million times over. Reaching the hotel, Clary sat down on the bed where Jace laid flat over the blankets.

"Jace?" Clary said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He had a smile on his face when she did, thinking of carrying his child. Hearing and seeing his child made it all the more real for him. Now, it wasn't just Clary _saying _she was pregnant, but for the first time Jace could see what was going on inside her; the proof of their growing child.

"We're having a baby." His spoke with an overflow of emotion. She giggled, looking down at her stomach briefly.

"Yeah, we are."

* * *

**So Jace is emotional! In writing this chapter, I also managed to upload a story onto watt pad, on my profile hebringsdarkness**

**As noted, your reviews are helpful**


	21. A

_They were standing around her, mumbling the same sentence over and over. Her daughter was screaming, appearing as if she'd aged over the years she'd been gone. Sebastian was holding her in his hands, caressing her hair with his strong fingers. There was a sleeping child resting in a crib, and a baby in her arms, a blue blanket around it. They were at the apartment, in Beth's nursery to be exact._

_The baby in her arms shifted, reaching up at her to grasp her fiery locks. She didn't even have to remove the blue knitted blanket to know that it was her son. Clary smiled, skimming her finger gently over his puffy cheeks, making him giggle at her with a laugh all babies seemed to share._

_"Shhh." Sebastian said with a smile. "Seb is sleeping," He gestured toward the sleeping baby. Clary nodded, focusing on the awake baby in her arms. There was a knock on the nursery door, and she went to answer it without any doubt rising in her head. Grasping the brass knob, the room was engulfed in white, a gunshot ringing loudly in her ears, and the baby in her arms began to scream._

_When her vision returned, she found herself to be laying down, blue taking up the space that the blinding white hand. Hands were moving in and out of her, and the screaming came out in a heap of entrails. Doctors were smiling, and Clary could hear the sound of her organs shifting as the mass of crying limbs came out of her._

_"Would you like to look at him, Clary?" A male doctor asked, and she shook her head, tears falling down her languid eyes._

_"No, I can't!" She sobbed, and the child's screams grew louder the more she denied him. "Please," Clary begged. "Take him away." The male doctor looked at her with pity before wrapping up the child in a hospital blanket._

_"Is there a name you were going to give him?" They asked her. There was in fact a name that Clary had picked out, being able to name the other son while Sebastian chose the one that would carry on his image._

_"Andrew," She croaked, looking at the blackened hair that shook out of his beanie. Clary wanted to peek at him, to see if he had her stunning green eyes or Sebastian's dark ones. She could have seen that with Sebastian Jr., but her heart throbbed at the thought of looking at child who would forever remain sleeping._

_"Andrew Verlac." The doctor nodded. Clary furiously shook her head at him, her throat caught between a sob and a jumble of words._

_"It's not up to us to choose his last name." She whispered, and the doctor was confused before a nurse approached him and informed him of the situation._

_"Please," She repeated. "Take him away," and this time, they did. Clary not ever seeing her child's eyes._

* * *

She awakened, gasping into the small hotel room. Jace was tying his shoes, and she guessed that he was about to go out to witness the ordeal of whatever was being shipped into New York. Her heart was beating violently in her chest, and then she looked down at her stomach with worry, cupping the miniscule bump that was their child.

"What's wrong?" Jace asked, approaching her on the bed and sitting next to her. The mattress dipped, causing her to lean into him with a heavy sigh. His arms were strong, and she needed such a thing after what her dreams melted into her conscious. The cries of a child were swirling around in her head, pushing her to the verge of insanity.

"A nightmare," She shrugged. Clary felt him kiss the top of her head, rubbing her shoulders and causing the friction to be heard in the small room.

"Are you sure?" He asked and she nodded. "Okay, because I'm about to leave." He added. Clary laid her hand over his, kissing it before releasing him from her grip.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Clary put on a fake smile that barely hid her trembling lip and glazed eyes. Jace hesitated before grabbing his bag and heading out the door, allowing her to smack her head against the white pillow and groan. No, there wasn't a way that sleep sounded good to her right now, not even if that was the first slumber in which she'd slept throughout the entire not. It wasn't worth the shivers and moments in which she spaced out.

Not long after Jace had left, there was a pounding on her door, and she could hear sobbing coming from the other side of the door. Clary shrugged on a shirt over her bare chest, checking herself in the mirror before holstering her gun to her waist and heading for the door. Looking through the hole in the door, Clary spotted a woman, even with her smeared mascara and trembling lip, was devastatingly beautiful.

Her hair was of the color of Jonathan's, almost silver in its blinding color. Green eyes so beautiful struck her with full force, as the woman was looking directly through the hole, still sobbing as she pounded on the wooden entrance. Their was a white bundle in her arms, and Clary could only guess it was a baby when she heard soft wails emanating from it.

"Please! You have to help me!" She pleaded. Clary answered with a slight turn of the lock, and the woman pushed straight through the door, nearly shoving Clary aside as she walked in and looked around the room. She was making no attempt to silence her crying child, and Clary thought this was strange, even more so when she'd stopped sobbing almost instantly.

"What is it? Why are you crying?" Clary asked with not as much of a gentle tint to her voice as she would have liked. There was something odd about the woman, how she was so composed even as her child was screaming and makeup was running down her face. Finally growing tired of the baby's crying, Clary moved to pick it up, looking down at it's puckered face. As it calmed their was something she recognized about his smoothed face. Releasing some of the pressure by unwinding the blanket, Clary noticed something stitched into the fabric.

_**A**_

_"What's his name?" _

_"Aeron." The woman answered..._


	22. Camille

The baby didn't belong to the woman, and now, Clary had to wonder just who the blonde was. Clary smiled at her before going to the bathroom with the infant that belonged to the woman she'd met on her first outing. The infant was beginning to doze off into a heavy slumber, and she feared what might have happened to Aeron's mother.

Clary took out her cell phone, checking to see if Jace had said that woman was to meet them today, which he hadn't. Her nimble fingers glided over the cold screen, pressing on the keyboard. Clary knew that the longer of a time she took in the bathroom, the greater of a chance that the woman would barge in.

_**Call an ambulance **_she texted, knowing that emergency services would be essential if and _when _the woman realized her cover had been blown

She pulled some towels from the walls, setting them on the bathroom tub until it had formed into what might have resembled a mattress. Carefully, she rested the child upon the blankets, making sure he was asleep before turning and shutting the door behind her, facing the now suspicious blonde. Her hands were on her hips, grasping something that thinly resembled a dagger, but appeared much thinner, more graceful, to Clary. Her mascara was stained onto her pale face, and looking into her green eyes, Clary could see just how cold the woman really was. No amount of beauty could hide that.

"Now, tell me, when did you figure out who I was?" The woman growled. Clary slammed the handle of the bathroom door down roughly, breaking it to where neither of them could enter.

"I _don't _know who you are." Clary said calmly, eyeing the knife. Such a situation had played out a few years ago, except the baby was in the strange man's arms, not in the tub, and Clary's stomach was _much _bigger than it was at her eleven week timeline. Clary prayed to whatever god that the situation wouldn't turn out as gruesome as the last.

"Oh, my _apologies," _The blonde smiled at her, unsheathing the knife and placing it over her slim chest along with her palm, feigning remorse. Clary's skin broke out in shivers, inching her own hand at her gun as a method of a protection. "I'm _Camille." _The name shot chills down Clary's back, and now she knew that this was the Camille responsible for the order of more than a thousand deaths. Clary vowed that she would not fall into these statistics. Not she, or her baby, or even the small boy in the hotel bathtub.

Camille walked closer to Clary, the dagger now laying carelessly at her side. It shined in the thin veil of sunlight that streamed from the hotel window, making it more symbolic than deadly. But she knew that if Camille desired, the beautiful blade could slice her into thin ribbons that would decorate a box that would be sent to those she loved.

"Don't look so _scared._" Camille sighed, tisking at Clary and shaking her head with a slight amount of force that caused her silver-colored hair to quake around her shoulders. "I don't want to think back and see your scared face, show some courage, anger, _something_." She chided a the red head. Clary looked down, sucking in a breath.

"You see," Clary began with a whisper. "I don't _do _scared, or angry, or whatever thin amount of courage your victims may all share in their final moments. No, I'm _strong_." And with that, she swung her gun from its holster, slamming it across Camille's face. The blonde didn't react, only swinging out her dagger and slicing it through the thick air, nicking Clary's back as she jumped out of its aim. Camille groaned in annoyance.

"I hate it when they run," She commented before lunging at Clary, knocking her to the ground. Clary's head smacked the ground, her vision blurring, then clearing to show a knife plunging at her chest. Thinking quickly, Clary spat a shot of saliva into the blonde's eyes, and Camille screamed in rage. Beginning to furiously wipe at her face. Clary got on her elbows, reeling back from the dangerous woman. She hoped that Jace had received her message, or was on his way already. Clary didn't think she could fight off this woman for long.

"Bitch!" She screamed at Clary, before the redhead kicked her roughly on the chin. Camille's back slammed into a wall, knocking a mirror to the floor with a loud crash. Despite her fall, Camille had thought better, and grabbed at the back of Clary's thigh, creating a wide ribbon of crimson with her dagger. Pain shot through Clary's leg, making her bite her tongue roughly to show strength. Seeing the blood trickle down her lower leg made Clary think back to the child she'd given up, the two children she'd lost, and finally the man that bit the barrel of a gun in a suffocating depression. Her own heartbeat in her ears, loudly, and instinct kicked in, motherly or not, and Clary flung backwards with agility; landing on the rented mattress.

Camille grabbed the sheets, pulling them back and Clary fell down with a release of air. The blonde pounced on top of her, straddling Clary's hips with a smile before smacking the back of her hand across her face to stun the red head. She pressed the blade to Clary's throat, whispering laughs at her chin.

"Any last words?" She asked sweetly, and Clary swallowed thickly, closing her eyes.

"Why do they call you _The Vampire_?" Clary asked. Camille laughed, the warm breaths spreading across her damp skin.

"Because, I drain my victims of blood." Camilly answered, and to make a point, she nicked Clary's chin. Though a small cut it was, pain pumped through Clary's blood, seeping out through the torn skin in lace ribbons. Clary saw Camille raise the knife again, and reached for her holstered gun. The blonde was clueless, laughing at Clary's seemingly scared face. When the timing was right, Clary pulled out the pistol and shot at the plunging weapon. Camille shot back, growling before Clary kicked at her stomach. A nauseating crack came from her ribs, making Clary wince as she was just glad it wasn't her own.

There was a ringing in her ears as she steadied herself. Both her and Camille were swaying awkwardly, and Clary thought she could hear the baby crying from the bathroom.

Camille vomited onto the floor, falling down. Clary sighed to herself, hearing the sirens and seeing their lights shine through the hotel window. The room door smashed open with a crack of wood, Jace being the first to barge in a sprint to her. His gun was at his side as he yelled orders to those behind him, the other officers breaking into the bathroom to rescue the infant.

"Is she okay?" He panicked. Clary thought that he was worried about Camille, but thought better when she felt his hand cup her stomach. Clary nodded, the sweat on her neck feeling more like paste that belonged on a wall and not stuck to her small pores.

"We're fine." Clary weakly smiled, looking down at her leg to see that she was still bleeding from the deep wound. Jace's eyes followed her gaze, them becoming wide as he saw how the blood was pouring onto the carpet. Spotting herself in the shattered mirror, Clary could see her neck coated with blood that was diluted with sweat. Her cheek was swollen, and Clary could spot the intrusion of violet on her face with its injury. Her shirt was stained, ruined with her own blood.

"Clary?" Jace asked, his voice sounding distant to her. Her eyes rolled over to him, his mouth forming words that she couldn't hear. In slow motion, she watched her head fall back against the edge of the bed, Jace grabbing onto her and shaking her.

The adrenaline that had masked her pain was ebbing away and being replaced with an agony that slammed her consciousness into a watery slumber.

* * *

**Such action! I love it! I thought I'd _also _take this chance and present to you guys a small snippet of the first chapter of my book!**

_**"I'm sorry you had to see that." He mumbled to Sophia as she remained shaking in his arms. She can feel his jaw press into her chestnut brown hair. This feeling is new to her. This sense of dependence on one person. Well, not entirely new as she had once felt this for her best friend.**_

_**"Why are you being so nice to me? Why aren't you killing me?" Sophia asks him. **_

_**"I'm starting to think you want me to kill you." He laughs. "You need to go home." He says with a returning sternness to his voice. **_

_**"But, my group-" She started. How was she going to tell their parents that their children were killed in their little game of bravery? Sophia feared the punishment that she would face from the Light's general. It seemed possible that she would be imprisoned for this act of independence from the safety of daylight. **_

_**"They're as good as dead, so I suggest that you take this chance to go." He growls at her. She stiffens at the sternness in his voice. **_

_**"Wait! What is your name?" Sophia asks him. She doesn't know what drives her to ask him, though she can't imagine living the rest of her life calling her Dark rescuer by the title of a pronoun. **_

_**"What's yours?" He throws back at her.**_

_**"Sophia." She responds. She feels a tension as she wait for him to say his name. Somehow, knowing it seems like a comfort to her. To know that man that saved her; even if he just brutally murdered a man right in front of her.**_

_**"Emmett." He reveals. "But, I don't want you to have to use it, understand?" He asks Sophia. She gives a slight nod as her answer. Sophia can see a trace of a smile on his face. This encounter has been very strange.**_


	23. Love

"So, Camille is it? Or should I just call you the coward that you are?" Simon huffed, smiling despite his anger. He wanted to make the woman suffer, to draw out each drop of blood that she was to take away from him best friend; who was pregnant. Yes, he was angry at the fact that she was carrying the bastard of Jace Herondale, the dick cop that lived up to his name apparently, but he felt protective of the child that grew inside her. Despite not sharing the same blood with her, Simon though of himself as an uncle, and no _vampire _was going to take away that title.

"How about 'the woman you'll be releasing soon?" She asked him. Simon growled at her, his eyes slitting and smile fading. There was no way she was getting off the hook. They had arrested those who were accepting the shipment, importing it, or at the scene. Quite a few people had been taken into custody, Jace nearly landing a punch on his face when he'd found out that Simon nearly cost him his life at the expense of arresting major drug lords.

"Right now, you're looking at multiple homicides, including that of the woman whose baby you stole, endangerment of a child, and attempting murder of an officer." He intimidated. "Tell me, how will you get away with such crimes?" His brows quirked up in eagerness. She was clever and he wanted an insight to her brain. The supposed vampire flashed her teeth at him, giving him a view of her dazzling teeth that showed no room for imperfection. Her eyes were of a green that he had to admit was more engrossing than Clary's. Like he said, _hated. _This woman didn't deserve more attention than his best friend, who'd gone through just about every struggle he could think of.

"Oh, I will, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." She smiled, and that was all he was going to get out of her, at least for today. Simon was lucky enough to get the few sentences he did out of her. The woman was cold, calculated, all things that the killers he'd met with were. Were as in not lasting a week in prison with that attitude.

"That being said, why don't we situate you with your cellmate." Simon stood, taking Camille's hand and walking out of the room. Though she wore a smug smile, he could feel her fear fibrate through her slender body. She received disgusted glances from the officers of the precinct, until a curious stare looked at her. And insane one at that.

"Simon! Why are you holding another woman?" Maureen sneared, pulling at her hair. Her lips were painted with what he assumed was marker that she'd taken before being arrested. Camille tensed next to him, pressing herself to him in immediate fear. Simon thought back to when Isabelle had done this when they'd seen a movie together, and the thought made him push Camille back in disgust. Hoping, he wondered if Isabelle was going to surprise him when he showed up at her house.

"Camille, I'd like you to meet Maureen, our frequent guest." Simon smiled, and Maureen flashed Camille a crazed grin. "What did you do this time, Maureen?" Simon asked her. Her cheeks flushed red, showing him a sheepish grin that replaced her insanity to the seventeen year old she truly was. Maureen had been in the precinct since she was fourteen, and Simon wondered if it was because of the embarrassing affection she held towards him. Simon couldn't see _why _he was so intriguing to the teenager, whereas most kids her age had their nose pressed against the flat screen of an iPhone.

"My mother was talking too loud!" Maureen said this by covering her ears. "So I grabbed a knife and shoved it down her throat!" She screamed. Camille was now shivering with fright. "But don't worry," Maureen said to the scared blonde. "I'll tell you if you ever get too loud." She sliced a finger down her throat, a small string of blood falling down. Simon held back nausea at her show of numb insanity.

"No! Absolutely not!" Camille snapped, trying to turn away before Simon could haul her to the small cell. She felt cold, she was always cold against him, and Simon wondered if it was because she was sickly. But, looking at her flush of power in her cheeks, he realized that it was her mere soul seeping through its rotting confinements.

"What's wrong Camille? Scared? Of a little girl?" Simon asked her. Little she was, for she was no taller than Clary. Further proving this was the childish clothing she wore to cover her changing figure, as odd as it appeared to him. It was as if the suppression made her body grow around it, hips starting higher up in her body and what little breast she _did _have were squeezed together in the confinements of what appeared to be a tight sports bra.

"I'm not little, Simon!" Maureen giggled, her fingers covering her cheeks, and Simon could see the dried blood under her fingernails. Camille's eyes bugged out at the crusted scarlet, and she turned back at him only to shout.

"She's fucking insane!" Camille explained with a gasp. Some officers chuckled, while one unlocked the cell for them. Simon nodded at the man, grateful for his assistance. He worried that if he let go of Camille to unlock the cell, that she'd run out of his hold and out into society, where a killer like her did not belong. Not on the same streets that those he loved walked on.

"Nonsense."

* * *

"We're really home?" Clary asked Jace. He hugged her hips, kissing the side of her head. The key in her hand twisted, the door unlocking with a familiar click. With wood squeaking and door hinges rattling, she pushed open the door. Clary let her eyes take in the sight of the empty apartment, the living room appeared dusty with no one using it for so long. Just like when she'd returned last time, there was a litter of flowers and colorful candies on her kitchen counter. She'd been gone from her home an extra two weeks. After a few days in the hospital, Jace had made her stay at his house, not even inching his way towards sex for the sake of her healing.

"It's just, so hard to believe we came back safe." Clary sighed. The suitcase that consisted of clothing and feminine products was wheeled in by Jace as she listened to the floorboards squeak under them. Jace had a permanent smile etched to his angelic face, making her join his expression. She was beyond happy, beyond grateful that they arrived home in one piece. Then again, _was it their home? _

"What are you thinking?" Jace asked, coming up and snaking his arms around her waist. She breathed in the smell of the stale air that hung thickly in the apartment, never wanting to leave its residence again.

"Something..." She trailed off.

"About?" He pressed, and she rested her head against his chest, placing her hands over his. Like this, she hoped to remain for the duration of the pregnancy, but didn't know if such a thing was possible with her string of bad luck. Jace planted a lingering kiss on the top of her head, nearly peaking her thoughts.

"What are we?" She asked, faintly remembering the time where asking this question brought destruction to their intimacy. Jace stiffened behind her, then continued kissing her head, hugging her closer to him.

"Whatever you need me to be." Jace answered with unspoken promises.

"See, now _that _sounds like I'm pressuring you into something!" She half-laughed. Jace kissed her shoulder, sliding her shirt down so that he could trace lines on her skin with his slick tongue.

"Believe me, you're not pressuring me into _anything._" He said, but then began to chuckle at his own words. Clary's brows pressed together in confusion, scared that he'd take back his words. "Well, _anything _meaning-" She gasped when he cupped her. Clary slapped his hand away with an embarrassed laugh, her cheeks flaming at his brazen touch.

"So, you mean it? You want to be with me?" She said, pulling back to stare at him. His golden eyes lidded in adoration for her, turning a dark caramel as he changed his goal to holding her hand and not something a few inches lower. Jace kissed her knuckles, tinted slightly with amber and violet from her fight. She winced, looking at the small swell of her hand, and Jace saw this, and used the tip of his tongue with each kiss to soften the already gentle impact of it.

"Believe it or not, I was actually worried that you wouldn't want to be with me." His ears flushed pink, returning her hand to his side.

"Why would you think that?" She asked.

"I know right?" Jace gave her a crooked grin, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm pretty hard to resist." She smacked his arm, and he used his other hand to grab on the extended limb and pull her flush against him; attaching his lips to hers. Clary breathed into his mouth, and their tongues began to mingle in a banter of acquaintance. The barely-there bump on her stomach made its presence known when Jace lifted the hem of her shirt, and his eyes widened in shock.

"What?" She asked him, her cheeks flushing red in mortification. "I'm fat, aren't I?" She groaned. Jace furiously shook his head, gulping loudly, then placing his hand on the engorged abdomen.

"No, not fat. _Pregnant. _With my child so to speak." He corrected, and she felt her chest release tension in short waves. Jace got down on his knees, scooting close to her and kissing her stomach. His fingers lingered at the waistline of her pants, and she shivered despite herself. "I haven't seen you in so long." He breathed against her skin that was damp from his kisses.

"You've seen me everyday for about the last two months, or have you forgotten." Clary laughed, and he shook his head, his golden waves tickling her midsection.

"No, not all of you." Jace sighed.

"Oh..." Was all she managed to pull out, feeling his fingertips linger at the buttons of her jeans. He began to kiss every inch of her waistline, making her wish he'd just have his way with her, anything to stop the teasing. When she was about to cry out in frustration, there was a loud knock on the door. She looked down, Jace's amber eyes shining up at her with intimidation.

"You should answer that?" Jace suggested. Clary bit her lip, shaking her head slowly. When the knocking stopped, she nudged Jace's chin with her knee, him laying down on the wooden floor with his lower legs bent under him. She stared down at him, his hair appearing to be the sun when pressed to the dark wooden floor. Staring for apparently too long, Jace straitened out one of his legs, turning and swiping it under her knee to cause her to collapse ontop of him.

Her fingers spread flat on his hardened chest, and she sucked her lip between her teeth, gnawing at it nervously. She thought of the words he had said to her on her first doctor's appointment while undercover.

"What are you thinking?" Jace said softly, the sweet air that left his mouth warming her neck.

"That I love you too."

* * *

**Reviews?**


	24. Her Son

"Do you want Mommy to read you a story?" Catarina asked her son. He was sitting down on his bed, his small body making a minor dip in the mattress. His dark hair was ruffled, pointing out at odd angles. He looked up at her, the corners of his pink lips smeared with the colored frosting of his birthday cake. No, it wasn't his _real _birthday, but Catarina didn't want to celebrate the day his biological family died. So instead, she threw a party for the anniversary of his adoption.

Andrew nodded his head, a small hiccup coming from his lips. She laughed, walking up to him and carefully pulling the pointed party hat from his head. He smiled up at her and flashed her the baby teeth that had grown in all so long ago. Judging by how he was looking now, she knew he would be a heartbreaker when he grew into maturity. Catarina didn't want to think of such future _just _yet, so she pulled back the blankets and let Andrew slip through the decorated covers.

"Lets see..." She said, tapping her chin and looking at his pile of thin picture books that rested on his colorful nightstand. "How about _The Three Little pigs?" _Andrew nodded with a sheepish grin, pulling out the glossy covered book himself and handing it to her.

"Once upon a time there were three little pigs. One pig built a house of straw while the second pig built his house with sticks. They built their houses very quickly and then sang and danced all day because they were lazy. The third little pig worked hard all day and built his house with bricks." Andrew's eyes lowered themselves to a closed state, and Catarina planted a kiss on his small, frosted cheek. She kept reading though, to make sure he wasn't trying to fool her.

* * *

The woman smiled up at the two story house, a weapon of her choice glinting in her hand. Small bouts of thunder cracked through the night, adding to her intimidation as she approached the front steps.

* * *

"A big bad wolf saw the two little pigs while they danced and played and thought, "What juicy tender meals they will make!" He chased the two pigs and they ran and hid in their houses. The big bad wolf went to the first house and huffed and puffed and blew the house down in minutes. The frightened little pig ran to the second pig's house that was made of sticks. The big bad wolf now came to this house and huffed and puffed and blew the house down in hardly any time. Now, the two little pigs were terrified and ran to the third pig's house that was made of bricks." Andrew popped open one of his eyes, giggling when he saw that his mother knew he was awake.

"The big bad wolf tried to huff and puff and blow the house down, but he could not. He kept trying for hours but the house was very strong and the little pigs were safe inside. He tried to enter through the chimney but the third little pig boiled a big pot of water and kept it below the chimney. The wolf fell into it and died." Andrew's eyes turned to his bedroom door, thinking he'd heard something, but didn't dwell on it and instead listened to the pleasant ending of his book. Though it wasn't his favorite book, _Little Red Riding Hood. _

"The two little pigs now felt sorry for having been so lazy. They too built their houses with bricks and lived happily ever after." His mother leaned down, kissing his cheek, her darker skin contrasting against his ivory skin. Andrew didn't know why he looked so different from his mother. She was thin, but tall and caramel colored. Her hair was a rich brown, but his was the darkest of blacks. His small ivory hand pressed on her arm, wanting her to lie down with him for fear of her own safety. Andrew couldn't deny the nagging fear that a wolf was going to come into the house and try and eat him and his mother.

"Goodnight, my love." Andrew's mother said before turning off his bedside lamp and leaving. He shivered under the cover despite their obvious warmth. Times like this, he wished for his dog to come and sleep along with him in his bed, but his dog had died a few months ago, leaving him alone.

A scream came from outside his room, across the hall maybe, and Andrew flung himself out of his bed, padding his small feet to his bedroom door. He was quiet, crawling around the fence that guarded the stair case. His mother's door appeared closed, and Andrew nudged it with his dimpled hand. It didn't squeak, much to his fears, and allowed him to see a sliver of what he heard.

His mother, her brown skin sticking out of the shadows, was laying on the ground, blood pooling at her head. At first he thought it was a wolf who had killed her when he saw the slick black hair of a figure standing over her, but he saw her ivory skin, labeling her as a human. Andrew was terrified of her grin as she looked down at his dead mother, her sword glinting in the moonlight. She whipped her head, and her dark eyes found his own, and he peed his pants.

With fear-induced speed, he darted for the stairs, hearing the woman's footsteps approach his mother's bedroom door. One wrong step had Andrew skidding down the stairs, his carpeted sheath burning his arms, but he wouldn't allow himself to stop. He didn't want to join his mother on the bedroom floor, or any floor to be exact. Turning, Andrew glimpsed a shadow at the foot of the stairs, the only thing being visible was her shimmering grin that made him shiver.

Andrew sprinted to the door, jumping up to reach the knob. Sadly, his short height didn't allow him to do such a thing. The first step creaked behind him, and Andrew began to mentally count each step in his head as he tried to jump for the knob. There were only twelve steps to the staircase, and she'd already stepped on one...

_Eleven. _

He jumped, his feet smacking back to floor as he missed his target, along with hearing her step down to the tenth step.

_Nine._

This time when he jumped, he actually slid his hand against the knob, but he fell down, smacking his burned arm on the floor. He began to weep as he saw the woman appear clearer to him.

_Eight. _

He cupped his arm, inspecting for any damages.

_Seven. _

Andrew stood up slowly, looking back at her smile with terrified eyes.

_Six. _

He jumped, and with satisfaction, he was able to grasp more of the knob, but not a steady hold.

_Five. _

She was approaching too fast for him, he need time as he kept jumping.

_Four. _

Jump, jump, jump! Andrew couldn't reach it.

_Three. _

Finally, _finally, _he grasped the knob, and turned it.

_Two. _

It wouldn't budge, and then Andrew realized that it was locked, the lock even higher above the door knob. He looked down. _The doggy door!_

_One. _

He didn't allow her any time to catch him, and threw his small body through the little flap, running down his porch and looking down the street. There was a solid kick to the door, and he panicked. _A brick house, _he thought with relief, and began running down the streets to the place his mother said to go should he get lost. Andrew figured this was an exception.

The brick building came into view, a shining gold star on its side, and Andrew noticed just how messy he looked with his wet pajamas and slick feet. He pushed his hand on the glass door, it barely moving an inch but let him squeeze his small body through. The passing men and woman in uniform looked at him with curious glances.

When he finally got into the main room, all the officers moving around in their ordered chaos, Andrew started to cry.

* * *

**Thoughts? **


	25. How Could You?

Approaching the precinct, she notices that few of the cruisers are missing. _Weird, _she thinks to herself. Jace's head is turning constantly, looking for the familiar amount of police cruisers. Parked up front is car she has come to know even though it has no branding, no title to it. Its color is a boring maroon, the windows having no tint to allow people to see straight through it. Usually, their is a child in the backseat, them not having any relation to the driver.

Children's Services.

_Oh God, _she thinks, now pacing herself with quickers steps and shorter breaths. Jace has to pull a little roughly on her hand to slow her down from sprinting straight through the transparent doors that will give her answers.

"Clary, wait!" He groans, running ahead to stand in front of her. His hair is dampened by the sprinkling precipitation. Golden eyes are wide, nervous, as he holds her shoulders. The last time she saw him this cautious was when she had been shot and he was trying his hardest to keep her inside. Now, it's as if he's trying to keep her outside, rather than inside. Her eyes skirt past him, looking through the front doors to take a hint at what's going on.

"What?" She snaps, pushing him back. Clary hears his shoes cry out as they slip a few inches backwards. Jace eyes her with disbelief, his mouth hanging open enough for her to see his chipped incisor. This look is different to her, or maybe it's because she hasn't known him that long to actually see disappointment.

"You need to calm down." Jace says in a calm tone, opposite of her own panicked one.

"Why?" She says with the same tone, though her pursed lips and furrowed brows show no definition of the word.

"Because," Jace sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're fifteen weeks pregnant, at least take that into consideration." And they begin walking, him having a firmer grip around not her arm, but her waist. Those who are walking in the building eye them with strange looks, although she's sure Jace doesn't attract _that _much attention. Sure, he's great and all, but not as if he were a man on fire.

Their shoes squeak on the tile that leads to her desk, and it makes her want to rush further, to get rid of the annoying sound. The moment they turn through the threshold of chaos, she starts asking questions, more particularly at Simon as he tries to gain her attention.

"Clary, there's something you need to know..." He says in a hushed tone that aggravates her. Nothing could be worse than having everyone act so _calm _when there is obviously a problem. Just seeing the Children's Services agent going in the interrogation room makes her suspicions escalate. Clary hates cases that involve children, those who she deems as innocent in a world so cruel.

"What?!" She finally snaps at her partner. Simon looks worried at her, before walking her to the glass window of the interrogation room. Jace follows in pursuit, his hand intertwining with hers as they look through the tempered glass. At first, her eyes don't catch what is such a big deal, but then when her green eyes skirt the one's that have haunted her dreams for the last three years, she can't help but gasp at him. Jace doesn't know what to do other than turn to ask Simon why Clary's reacting in a such a way.

_His lashes are long, like his father's. Hair as dark as the night comes down in short waves that skirt the middle of his forehead like a window's curtain. He has that same haunted look that his father used to wear, from seeing death. No one can get back that innocence, and it is this child who has already lost it. His fingers aren't chubby like his sister's was, but then again, she was only eleven months at the time of his tragic birth. Fingers meant to hold a brush tap against the metal table, patient, just like her. _

Andrew.

"...Loss." Simon finishes with a sentence that she didn't hear in its beginning. Jace has stilled next to her, watching as she throws herself back from the view.

"What the hell is going on!" She gasps, covering her mouth to stifle a few trator sobs. Tears block what little of vision she had of the boy. _Her son, _Clary's thoughts shout at her. She shakes her head, the boy in there _was not _her son. No matter how much he looked like Clary or Sebastian, he wasn't her son.

"His mother, Catarina Loss, was murdered last night, and he was telling us how he got away." Simon clarifies, his gaze falling to the floor.

"Why is everyone freaking out? Some kid just survived a break in, and all you guys are managing to do is act like we saved the goddamn antichrist!" Jace snaps, and they all turn to stare at him. His cheeks flush in embarrassment, but his golden eyes darken to anger as he eyes them both for answers.

"...he isn't hurt, is he?" Clary whispers to Simon.

"No, just scared," He catches himself, thinking his future second thoroughly. "He misses his mother." Clary starts to furiously shake her head, not wanting to hear the cursed word. _Mother, _Clary is no such thing to the angel in the other room. Giving him up... was the worst thing she'd ever done, and since then she's considered ending her miserable life. No one would miss her, but meeting Jace, and then getting pregnant, has eliminated that sadness. But it returns with a vengeance, asking her how her life can be so perfect when her son has suffered.

"Okay, thanks for the vague answer, Rat, but can you perhaps fill me in?" Jace groans. Simon eyes Clary, waiting for her permission, and her slight nod allows his mouth to reveal the truth.

"He's her son." Simon answers quietly. Jace laughs at him, disbelief clear in his burst.

"Yeah, right." Jace scoffs.

"_Yeah, right_." Simon says with honest, and then Jace is pulling Clary by the arm into an empty room. She shuffles away from him, watching him pace back and forth, pointing at her with his mouth open but shutting it after thinking over his words.

"Please say something." She croaks. Jace's hands fly in the air, angry flaring out his nostrils.

"_Say something?!" _He repeats and she nods. "What do I say to the mother of my unborn child having another kid?!" He shouts, though his eyes begin to water.

"I'm sorry!" She yells back at him. Jace tugs violently at the ends of his hair, fuming in thinly concealed anger.

"Is this why you kept our child? Just so you could give her up to a nice home and keep your conscience clean?" His face in beet red, short breaths of air leaving his mouth as he yells. She gasps at him, covering her stomach protectively. "Or maybe, you thought that you could keep this one? Huh? Even out the scale?" Jace keeps shouting, accusing.

"How can you think that I would give up our child?!" Clary cries.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the three year old waiting in the other room?" His guffaws.

"I gave him up because I was an unfit mother! Sebastian tried to take care of him, but then he killed himself! How do you suppose I watch a child when I couldn't even take care of myself?" She asks him through shouts.

"I was a baby!" And at this, he stops, catching his breath. "_He _was a baby." He corrects. Then she thinks, thinks of how his siblings have a different last name. She hadn't ever asked him how his adoption affected him, but now it's clear that he sees this as the same situation. "How could you do that? He was innocent and you gave him away like recyclable trash." He whispers with hurt.

"I gave him away because I loved him, not because he didn't _mean_ anything to me." Clary corrects him. "I thought, that you of _all _people would understand, because we shared the same heart. The same soul. But I was wrong, you're just like everyone else." she croaks, anger furrowing her brows. "And if you can't see _that_, then we're over." He looks up at her, his eyes shining with tears and anger.

And he lets her leave.

* * *

**Thoughts? How do you feel about Jace's views on Clary? Should she forgive him? What about Andrew, what happens to him? **

**Tell me in the reviews!**


	26. Interrogation

Their faces were pressed up against the glass of the interrogation room. She was interested in what the boy, _Andrew_, had to say about the night his mother was murdered. _He was so little_. She couldn't help but feel horrible, and somehow responsible that he'd witnessed such a gruesome sight. Each time he was asked about the subject, he'd go silent, or recoil from the children's services agent. A reason Clary had given him up was to spare him of the gory details surrounding his birth, but perhaps that only damaged him further.

"_Andrew_…" The agent sighed once he had scooted back in his seat. Her hand pressed out to him. "Can you please tell me why you're so scared?" The agent asked. Andrew lifted his head from his shoulders where it hung limply.

"I don't have a Mommy anymore." He croaked, then let his small head rest in his clammy hands. Simon put his arm around Clary, and she wondered what Jace was thinking from behind them. Perhaps the agent was looking back at Clary, scolding her for giving up such an angel.

Standing up straight, the agent turned to the glass and shrugged, taking her files with her and leaving the three year old in the room. Clary wanted to snap at her for such carelessness.

"He's too shy. He won't open up, to me at least." She said while eyes Clary for the last of her speech. It was as if she knew exactly why Clary had given him up. That maybe she thought Clary had given him up under small stress. That the death of Andrew's and and her family amounted to little stress.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Simon asked her while pacing the hallway outside the room. The agent shrugged, looking back at the boy with ink black hair with doubt.

"No, not really. We can't do anything until he opens up. And until then, he's going to go into foster care." She said with a dull voice. Clary bit back bile.

"Are you kidding?! The kid just watched his mother be murdered! Don't you need to evaluate him or something?!" Clary gasped.

"_Adoptive mother._" The agent corrected and Clary scoffed.

"Do you think he knew that?" Clary scowled.

"I don't know. What I have from him has come from the day he was born. It was a very confidential adoption. Few probably had proof that he was adopted. Ms. Loss was a secretive woman who'd abandoned her home life. From what I've gathered, the only people that could ever care for him don't know of his existence. He's alone." Clary bit back a tongue lashing, or tears. Either which, they were burning a nasty color on her throat.

"Alone? How can a three year old be alone?" She asked. The agent seemed to be annoyed with Clary's questioning.

"Because, the only people his mother seemed to associate with would be those who actually showed up at her house. She was a single woman who had a three year old child to watch." The agent answered stiffly.

"So, if we can't get him to talk, what happens?" Simon asked.

"He goes back to the agency with me."

"Oh," Simon responded with an echo of sadness. The tongue that Clary had been biting on could remain still no longer, and when she released it, she knew she might regret what she was about to say.

"What if I try talking to him? Could I do that?" Clary blurted, and the agent looked surprised.

"Go ahead. He's not easy to talk to." She shrugged.

"Are you going to go in there with me?" Clary asked. The agent shook her head.

"No, he doesn't seem to enjoy my presence, so for now I'll just watch from the glass." And with that, Clary walked to the steel door and twisted its knob open. Andrew lifted his head up, looking surprised when he saw Clary. She wondered if he knew that she was his biological mother, or if he was scared of her too.

"Huh?" He questioned, no hint of anger. Only curiosity. Clary smiled, then sat next to him, wincing at the cold chair that greeted her pants.

"I'm detective Fairchild. Clarissa Fairchild, but you can just call me Clary." She answered.

"Kay." He nodded slowly, looking down at the steel table.

"It's cold in here, isn't it?" Clary asked him, rubbing her arms. Andrew looked up at her, shivering along with her.

"Mmhmm." He agreed.

"Why were your clothes wet when you got here, Andrew?" Clary asked with hesitation, wanting to keep her questions simply until she knew she could no longer hide the fact that he'd seen his mother's death.

"Rain." Andrew answered simply.

"You know, I kinda like the rain." She admitted, smacking herself on the forehead for sounding so stupid.

"Me too. Mommy says it makes me dirty." Andrew smiled sadly. Clary had an extreme urge to hug the child, but thought against the idea.

"What was Mommy like?" Clary asked him, her elbow leaning on the cold table. Andrew's face lit up, and he opened his mouth with an expressive smile.

"Pretty. Tall. Her hair was… _brown_." She was amused at his thought process. At how every word was well practiced, and he took a few seconds to think of the color _brown_. "Not like mine. Mine is black. Her skin is brown too. And her eyes. But I'm white, _really_ white." Clary snorted at him, and she knew Simon would be too. Clary had always commented on her own pearly colored skin, hating how it never tanned.

"My skin is like that too. My husband had skin like your's." Clary responded. "Was your Mommy happy, sad, angry?" She asked the three year old, who seemed to think the question a million times over.

"Happy, but sometimes sad. She said that my daddy was old, very old. He died before I was born." Andrew told her. Clary had read in Catarina's files that her husband was in his fifties, older than her, and he had died of cancer that should have killed him many years before.

"What did he look like?" Clary asked him. Andrew pulled at the ends of his hair, and Clary marveled at how Sebastian did the same thing.

"Not like me." Was all he said back. "Mommy said I'd meet him though, in another place. I think she's with him now."

"Are you happy for her?" She questioned with actual interest.

"How am I going to find them when I die? Where will they be?" Andrew wondered, breaking Clary's heart at his sadness.

"They'll wait." She soothed, even if she wasn't religious.

"But what if I get old? Will the know what I look like?" Andrew asked.

"I think so. I have people waiting for me too." Clary said. This seemed to peak his interest, as his mouth opened to ask even more questions of the afterlife.

"Who?" He wondered. Clary took in a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes to picture the smiling man with dark hair. Thinking, she pulled out her wallet, knowing that an image of her small, departed family rested inside one of the sleeves.

"This is them…" She said, pointing at Sebastian and Beth, Clary holding her daughter who was laughing at her father's silly faces. Andrew's hand skimmed to over to the protective sleeve, running across his father's face with apparent amazement.

"What is their names?" He said with questionable grammar that she did not correct. Shrugging her pet peeve, she smiled at his darting eyes.

"This," she said, pointing to Sebastian. "Is my husband, Sebastian."

"Sebastian?"

"Yeah, what's wrong? You don't like that name?" Clary asked and Andrew shrugged.

"I've heard it." Andrew answered. "What is her name?" He said, pointing at his biological sister.

"That, is our daughter, Beth. She was amazing. Such a happy baby…" Clary's eyes watered, but she looked up at the burning lights of the interrogation room to dry up her waning tears.

"What happened to them?" His dark brown eyes were wide as he asked. Maybe hesitant at his own words when they left his mouth.

"Bad people took her away from me. From us. My husband, he was _very_ sad, and when his heart broke, he couldn't handle it." Clary answered.

"A bad woman took away my Mommy." Andrew sighed, and her mind shook with interest, as he had never declared the assailant's gender.

"Can you tell me what the bad woman looked like?" She blurted to him, but he shrugged, okay with the question.

"Her hair was black… like mine. Long. Her skin was white… also like mine. But her smile was _scary_. Not like mine." Andrew detailed. "Are you going to find her? Is she in trouble?"

"Yes, a lot of trouble. She won't hurt anyone's Mommy." Clary vowed. The steel doors opened, and in walked Captain Carstairs and the agent. The agent grabbed Andrew's arm, and he fought back.

"What is going to happen to me? Who will watch me?" Andrew yelled over her commands. Clary looked at the woman with an incredulous stare.

"I don't…" Clary began. "Wait!" Clary shouted, halting everyone's movement. The agent raised her brows, angered that she was being dramatic. "Can he stay with me?" She asked both her captain and the irritated woman. Andrew did too, his lower lip pouting like a puppy being denied a toy.

"Maybe-"

"Yes." Captain Carstairs declared, and Andrew broke free from the agent's grip, running to Clary's side. He was hesitant to touch her, until she finally reached for his hand and gripped it tight. Seeing her invitation, he hugged her. Clary was shocked to hear his long, wet, sobs that sounded in her ear; as if he had been waiting for someone to cry to.

* * *

**Thoughts? **


	27. Sad Girl

"Is there a baby in there?" Andrew asked her as they walked to her apartment. Jace had driven her to work, and she didn't want to talk to him just yet, so she settled for walking home. Though, she didn't tell him either. She just… left work. Not without making sure Andrew had proper protection on against the cool wind that blew across New York. Andrew had Simon's puffy jacket over his thin arms, and she thought that if his father had lived, that he'd be wearing Sebastian's jacket just the same.

"Here?" She asked, rubbing her stomach that was covered by a thick sweater. Andrew nodded. "Yeah." Clary smiled. He looked somehow intrigued that there was another life growing inside her, that he wasn't able to see it.

"Cool." Andrew commented, still looking at her stomach, his fingers noticeably twitching under the thick sleeves.

"Do you want to feel my stomach?" Clary asked him, and his cheeks flamed shamefully. He walked closer to her, his small palms stretching out before stopping them both so he could run it over her jacket. She stopped him, unzipping it so that he could get a better feel of her extended abdomen.

"Does the baby have a Daddy?" Andrew asked her.

"Yes," She sighed to him, holding onto his hand once he had dropped it to his side. Andrew didn't seem to object to the contact, whether he thought she was being protective or maternal was up to him.

"Who?" Was of course the question he would ask her next. She looked down at him, wishing that they were not having this discussion. But, he was curious. And what harm could telling him do?

"Did you see the man with golden hair? He was tall, strong looking." She kept her definition at his level. His eyes were blank for a few moments before widening in recognition.

"Yeah. That was the Daddy?" Andrew wondered.

"Ye-_p_." She said, popping the 'p' loudly. This made Andrew giggle.

"Why did he look so sad? Is he sad? Why is he sad?" His questions were fast, barely any space for him to breath before he asked her the next.

"He looked sad?" Clary asked him.

"Yeah, at both of us. Like when my mommy takes away one of my toys." He said with a clever simile. Clary must've not seen this longing expression, seeing as in she didn't even look at him as she took Andrew in her arms when she was granted to take him home. She was wary of just how where their relationship resided. Sure, she _did_ say that they were over, but that was if he couldn't see her point of view for giving up her only living son. Clary hoped that he didn't think she ended their partnership.

"Andrew?" Clary blurted when she felt him let go of her hand. He dashed ahead, sprinting a forward a few feet. "Andrew!" She shouted, drawing attention. Andrew didn't hear her, but he must have when he suddenly stopped. He looked down, then jumped in the air, and she laughed when she saw water splash around him. Andrew looked back at her, him smiling with a grin that could only match his father's.

"Don't you like the rain too?" He asked her, and she slowly began to nod her head as if she were the child and he the adult. Andrew used his hand, signaling for her to join him. She began walking to him, then sprinting with a few breathless laughs, jumping and splashing next to him. A few people stared, shaking their heads. Clary paid them no attention, focusing on the giggles of her biological son.

"There's no more water." Andrew commented, running ahead like he'd done before to splash in another shallow puddle. And, again, she chased after him and joined in on the fun. Before she knew it, they were facing the building that her apartment was located in.

"This is where I live," Clary explained to him as he looked upon the many stories of the home that should have been his.

"_Alone_?" He asked in disbelief, making her laugh.

"No," She answered. "See that window over there?" Clary asked, pointing up a few floors of the building at a window that was masked with a thick yellow curtain.

"Yeah…?"

"That's the room where I live." She made sure she had a firm grasp on his small hand before beginning to walking in the brick building. Andrew's head kept turning at the decorations of the apartment's lobby. Once, his foot squeaked on the tile floor, and the noise was amusing to him, so he purposely caused it with each step until she scolded him for it.

"Have you ever been in an elevator?" Clary asked when they got in. He shook his head, and the small quake when it lifted seemed to have scared him. As if it were his instinct, he hugged her slim legs until they had reached her floor; Clary smiling the entire time.

"They look like closets." Andrew blurted, looking at each room door that was close to the other. She shook her head at him, continuing to hold his hand up until she twisted the key inside her door. He sprinted on his, shrugging off Simon's coat and flinging it on the couch. He turned sharply back to her, his eyes confused for a moment.

"This is small than my house…" His dark eyes faltered, saddened momentarily before he turned his back to her and took a seat on the couch.

"Are you hungry?" She asked him.

"No…?" Andrew debated the topic, then stood up. _So indecisive. Just like her. _He walked around, and assuming that the large metal crate was her refrigerator, he opened it with a grunt. She heard the crackle of plastic and when walking over to him, she gasped at what he popped in his mouth.

"You like those?" Clary questioned with wide eyes and twitching fingers. He nodded absentmindedly, still eating the contents of the plastic box. When he felt her lingering stare, he turned to her with the same arch of his brow that was her own.

"Are you okay?" He asked like a concerned parent.

"Yeah," She stuttered. "It's just, strawberries are my favorite fruit too." Clary eased with a smile. Full, he placed the box back into the fridge, giving a small burp. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, yawning. Even if she hadn't been a mother for more than three years, she knew that he was tired. And, like her daughter, his sister, he would fight sleep for all he was worth.

"_But I'm not tired_." He swore with a long yawn that barely left his words separate. Andrew was laying on her bed, Clary deciding to sleep on the couch for the sake of his comfort and the cost of her own. Once she had lay the comforters over him, he was fast asleep, softly snoring. Making sure the door was wide open, she left him to sleep on his own.

She trudged back to her living room, looking to see that the door was locked, and then rubbing her stomach. Doing so reminded her of Jace, that part of him was growing inside of her.

Pulling out her phone, she realized that he hadn't called her, and this made her mood plummet. _Whatever_, she thought to herself, _I don't need him._ The couch made a deflating noise under her, and maybe it was the insult to her pregnancy hormones, or just the fact that she was sleeping alone that made her eyes tear up and a few sobs leave her burning throat.

Clary hadn't known if she was either too loud or that he'd woken up on his own, because she heard Andrew's small feet padding his way over to her. He was rubbing his eyes, his obsidian hair astray with disrupted sleep. Once he had reached her, he stood next to the couch until she moved aside and allowed him to lay down next to her.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," Clary blubbered, even more upset that she disrupted his slumber.

"My mom cried a lot too." He shrugged, pushing his back against her swollen abdomen. Andrew reached for the blanket, pulling it over them both. "You shouldn't cry. Your baby will get sad too." He commented, patting her hand with his small one.

"Okay." She croaked, wiping her eyes.

"Do you cry when he's around?" Andrew asked.

"No," Clary answered him with a throat that was no longer clogged with sadness.

"Then you should tell him to come back so you can stop crying. You don't look good when you're sad. No one does." Andrew thought to her, hugging the arm that snaked around him.


	28. Home

"Ewww." Andrew said towards Clary as she enjoyed her scrambled eggs. She looked up from her dish, seeing his small nose scrunched up in disgust.

"What?" She asked, clearing her mouth of any food before talking. Andrew pointed at her dish, making the disgruntled noise agains. This morning hadn't been as difficult as she thought it'd be. Clary thought that he'd be screaming out through the halls of the apartment, smashing pots together, or perhaps throwing his food around. Surprise won out over all at how well mannered he was. Whether he was well brought up by Catarina Loss or that his father was just as smooth acting was up to her to wonder about.

"Nasty." He said, finishing his cereal. Like most children, he didn't understand that leaving plates around the house was messy. He left the bowl that was devoid of any cereal on the coffee table then began to watch a TV show that was engrossing with its erratic spray of colors and noises. She thought back to a time when Beth had laughed at the silly characters, maybe even the same one. Not that she stuck her child in front of a screen all day.

"What are you watching?" Clary said, her head over his shoulder. Andrew shrugged her off with a laugh. That, or he really didn't know what he was watching. The only real noise she could distinguish in the room was that of an actual phone ringing. They both turned their heads, looking at the device on the wall.

"I'm going to answer that…" She thought outloud. Without thought, she picked it up and answered it. Whoever was on the other line must've been able to hear Andrew giggling at the moving characters on the screen, and the annoying noises of the oddly named cast. "Hello?" Clary asked to the caller.

For a few moments, there was nothing, only the scratchy noise of breathing. "Clary." He said to her, and she nearly dropped the phone. Jace didn't even call out for her, only saying her name. He didn't start out with a long string of apologies, promises to never do it again, or at least say that he wanted to see her.

"Jace?" She croaked, hormones drowning out her regular voice with maddened longing. Or perhaps that was just her; missing him so damn much. He was silent on the other side of the conversation. Clary could practically feel the need vibrating between them. She wanted him so bad, and he probably didn't think much before calling her.

There was a tug at her leg, and she looked down to see Andrew looking up at her with large eyes. Instinct overtook her, and she looked down at his jeans to make sure he hadn't peed himself; which he didn't.

"What do you want?" She asked gently, and he pointed to the TV, showing how he'd accidentally turned it off. _Oh thank the Angel_, she thought to herself.

"I miss you so fucking much…" Jace sobbed on the other side of the line. Clary didn't think that he'd heard her talking to Andrew, and was even more surprised that he was crying. Her nerves lost control and she dropped the phone, picking it up only to realize that he'd hung up on her.

Clary went and fixed the TV for Andrew, though it wasn't broken. Before the characters on the screen could even begin their endless babble of words, they were interrupted by a car honk that continued on a few seconds. Clary and Andrew dashed up from the couch and to the window, see a car that only she was familiar… and the man that was standing on it.

"Jace?" She wondered. He was staring up at her window, a somber smile on his face once he made eye contact with her.

"The man!" Andrew cheered, after which the phone rang for the second time that morning. Clary wasted no time scrambling to the receiver and answering the caller. She walked back over to Jace, laughing at how he had his phone pressed to his ear just as she did.

"I'm an ass." He said immediately, and she watched him say the words.

"I know." Clary sighed to which he frowned at.

"But I'm also sorry." There was a loud honk behind him and Jace turned around to flip the man off. Clary covered Andrew's eyes.

"_I know_." She admitted again.

"You do?" Jace asked in wonderment.

"This may be a shock, but I do care for people, including those I gave up." Clary said in a tight voice. Jace looked down at the top of his car, shuffling his feet.

"Are you going to give me up?" Jace questioned with a worried tone to his voice.

"I just might." His eyes were watery as they looked up at her. His hair was wild, as if he didn't sleep. The clothes that clung to his skin were familiar from the previous day, and very wrinkled like he didn't care to at least iron them. He looked like this when he'd spent the entire night at the precinct.

"I want to come home." Jace groaned to her, reaching his hand out.

"Then get back in your car and drive there." Clary said with no amusement.

"But you're my home."

"I am?" Clary gawked.

"Without a doubt."

"Wherever you go, wherever you run or hide or whatever! That's my home." He vowed. "Please let me come home." But she didn't know how to answer him. If she should let him come back into her apartment knowing what he'd said to her only a day before.

* * *

**So sorry for the cliffhanger! Should Clary let Jace come back? Should she forgive him? **

**Leave your answers in the reviews!**


	29. Fighting

"Wherever you go, wherever you run or hide or whatever! That's my home." He vowed. "Please let me come home." But she didn't know how to answer him. If she should let him come back into her apartment knowing what he'd said to her only a day before.

"I'm so scared." Clary admitted to him. Jace nodded up at her. His face was tight in worry, scared that she'd do was she was sure was considered the easy way out. She could tell him that it was too soon, that she needed time to heal. She could experience the entire pregnancy being single, and yet loved like a partner. They would have a child together, and each moment spent taking care of it would mean that they would only hurt each other.

"Please don't feel scared. I'm so sorry that I made you feel scared." Jace apologized. Whether it was the pressure he had on her or the constant gentleness of his voice that made her angry. Why was she made to feel like the bad guy when he was the one who'd snapped at her in the first place?!

"Jace, stop that." She groaned into the phone. He looked shocked at her words as if she'd declared her love for another man. Well, she was about to; and his name was reason.

"Stop what? Loving you?" He asked with a hint of frustration.

"That! Stop talking like that! Like I fu-freaking killed your cat with my car! Like I'm the one who yelled at you for giving up your only living son!" Clary huffed into the receiver.

"I don't know what you want me to do! I've never done this before, apologizing! Just look at me, Clary! Do I look like a guy who has ever walked away with his tail between his legs? Fuck, I can count the number of serious relationships I've had with one hand! And do you know how much harder it is that you're pregnant? That you're so breakable to me and yet I break you every damn time I try to get near you." Jace snapped. Clary pushed Andrew back so that he couldn't hear the vulgar words Jace was using.

"So _you're_ the breakable one here? Every fight we've had was because you were too damn sensitive for your own good! And I'm the pregnant one!" It was almost funny that they were shouting back and forth from building to car.

"You want cold? I'll give you cold! Just _let me come home_, Baby." He pleaded to her, and her anger melted in half a second.

"Jace," Clary sighed. "We're going to be having a baby, and fighting isn't a healthy skill that we should work on. How are we going to raise a child when we're so quick to snap at each other?" She reasoned. Before he could answer her, an officer approached him, probably asking what he was doing on the car, and to get off. Jace ripped his badge from his pocket and threw it at the cop. The cop picked up the badge and seeing him as an officer, decided it wasn't worth it, throwing his badge at him before leaving.

"Dammit, Jace. Come inside before I call Jem!" Clary threatened. Jace jumped from the top of his car and began walking into the building, disappearing from her sight. Andrew had moved to the couch, staring at her strangely.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Can you go in my room?" Clary asked Andrew. He hopped from his seat, sprinting to her room to avoid any awkward moments of yelling between her and Jace, though he didn't even know he was on his way.

She walked to the door, wary when she opened it. Jace pushed passed her, inspecting the apartment before turning back to her. When Jace's eyes landed on her face, and the way her skin was flushed red with intense anger, he took a hesitant steps towards her.

"Clary, I know that I messed up…" He put his hands in front of him, hoping to block any punches that she was going to throw at him. "But I am truly, truly sorry." The closer he got, the more of a storm her emotions raged in.

"_Sorry_?" She spit out, and he nodded slowly. There wasn't much thought put into her actions when she flung herself at him. Thankfully, he stopped her with a strong hold on her shoulders, her stomach not big enough to halt her.

"Clary! Calm down!" Jace worried.

"_Calm down_? You're such a fucking ass! I was happy, you know, before any of this happened! I was loved, and I know for a fact that if I wasn't a cop, none of this would be happening!" She sobbed, still reaching to swing at him.

"I know, Baby, I know." He soothed.

"Why do you do this to me, Jace? Why can't you just love me like a regular person? Why is it so hard for you to love me right? Do you even love me?" Clary growled.

"Yes, dammit!" Jace said, his hands tensing around her.

"No! You don't love me! How could you love someone who _gave up her child like recyclable trash_?!" He flinched at her words, at how she repeated the ones he had told her yesterday. "You say horrible things to me, then you pull romantic shit like you did just now, and it makes me feel like I'm the bad guy!" Her words were becoming erratic. "I'm a cop for shit's sake, I should be able to tell who the bad guy is."

"Calm down, Clary. It can't be good for the baby." Jace worries.

"Oh _now_ you're worried about the baby? Were you worried when you snapped at me yesterday? Or when you fucking made me think that we were over when you didn't call?" She couldn't stop shouting at him, nor did she want to. The combination of hormones and anger was proving to be too strong.

"You and that baby are everything to me! I know I'm an ass sometimes. Maybe even all the times, but _this_," he took a leap of faith, touching his hand to her stomach. Clary gasped at him, shocked that only his touch could silence her. Could spread her anger out until it snapped into thin cords. "This is what I will fight to the end for. You can kick me out, never say my name or share a bed with me again, but she is here because of us; and you probably will never know just how glad I am that it's you that I made her with. That you didn't abort her when you found out you were having a child with a broken man."

"You're not broken." Clary corrected softly.

"Yes, I am." He argued back. Dammit, she told herself as she moved closer to him. "I'm so sorry…" Jace blurted when her hand cupped his chin.

"Don't." She interjected, her face mere inches from his.

"_But I am_." Jace croaked. She stared into his golden eyes, wondering just how to fix the broken man he claimed to be. Yes there were some parts of him that were damaged, but he wasn't entirely broken.

"Jace Herondale, you are perhaps the most ridiculous, stupidest, stubbornest person I have ever met…" Clary sighed, still stroking his chin with her small hand. His gaze fell to her feet and he swallowed heavily in defeat. "But I'm madly, _madly_ in love with you-" Given his chance, he crashed his lips to hers. Jace peppered her face with sloppy kisses, whispering promises she didn't know he'd keep. They were both breathless and exhausted, so she pushed his chest back with his fingertips. The padding of feet alerted her of a presence that was watching them wearily.

"I think we have an audience." Clary laughed. They both turned to Andrew, whose head was peeking out from a corner. His small fingers were wrapped around the wall, and she motioned for him to join them.

Andrew sauntered over to them, a heavy weight with each step. Clary picked him up in her arms, and Jace and Andrew had a staring match; which was ended when there was another knock at the door.

"Open up!" Clary heard a familiar voice yell through the wood. Jace decided to answer it himself. A decision in which he would regret when it was Simon on the other side.

"What do you want, Rat?" Jace sighed, not long before Simon landed his fist on his jaw.

* * *

**_Reviews, please?_**


	30. Winner

The baby in his hands was dozing off to sleep. He wanted to sleep too, but not yet. Not while his son needed him.

"How about a story, Little Man?" He asked his son, who of course, could not respond at only a few weeks old. He chuckled, thinking he was insane at single parenting. Not without his mother. He was nothing without her. He had decided to keep his son when his mother could not bare to look at him, when no one could even bring up the subject of him around her without her crying.

"How about I tell you my own story of Little Red Riding Hood?" He pondered. The baby just wiggled around, deepening his connection to his father. "Okay then. Little Red it is…" The man let out a length sigh, sitting down in a rocking chair to sway the baby while he spoke.

"Once, there was a girl, some called her by her real name, and some called her Red. I guess it was the fiery hair that covered her like a cloak, or her temper, but that's for you to decide when you're older." He began to his son. The baby didn't mind his talking, so he continued.

"She was walking to to the subway, making her way to her grandmother's house, and her mother warned her of the danger that the streets posed. She told her that dangerous men walked them, and that she'd get sucked up in a lifestyle she wouldn't like." If only the baby knew how this was the tale of his conception.

"Anyways, she began her journey, walking down the street like the angel she was. But then, a wolf saw her. He saw how pretty she was, and how she sparkled in the dirty world he'd known ever since he moved to the city. He swept her off his feet with his dark hair, big muscles, and outstanding height. She had no idea just how clever he was, how _easy_ it was for him to drag her away from her path." He said in a soothing voice.

"She was going to be in the military, do things for her country. But him, in his disguise as a strong man, told her to stay with him where he could protect her. So she became a cop like him. They did dangerous things together, they were a team. Then, one day, she came home with a smile on her face, saying that they were going to be a family. A great family at that. They had a little girl who was just as pretty as her mother. Raising a child was amazing, so they tried again. She found out their family was going to be bigger than expected, and he was so scared that he couldn't protect them all." The man groaned at the past thought. How right he'd been to be scared.

"The wolf brought danger home to his Red, and Little Red. In the little time that a few minutes brought, his family was destroyed almost completely. He lost them all, all but one. His little wolf pup. Not him. But his Red didn't want the baby, so the wolf took him to his old home, tried raising him. Tried to understand each cry and whine and coo that the wolf made at him. The wolf was suffering without her. He needed his Red Riding Hood, but she didn't need him. So, the wolf let the darkness brewing inside him eat him up. Even looking at his son could he not find happiness. There was a word for such a sadness, but he never claimed himself to the illness."

"He wanted to use his gun, the gun that was given him to protect people, and end his own life. To just stop the sadness from continuing its assault. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking of how the gun would taste in his mouth. Then, he thought about how he would say goodbye. How he would tell his wolf pup that he was a coward for taking the easy way out. But he found his own way to tell his son how he was sorry. His own, special way." The baby was now asleep, his eyes closed in slumber. The man kissed his son's head, standing up to place him in his crib.

Walking out of the nursery, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen. He took a seat on his living room couch, knife in hand, and began to whittle something into the side of his gun. It was sort of symbolic, writing the word _Love_ on the handle, because love was going to kill him. Elodie was going to be pissed at him, but she'd be even more pissed when his son would grow up with a drunk of a father, damaged by horrible parenting.

With his thumb, he pressed a button on his remote, to play some sort of song that would drown out his sobs. He didn't want to scare his son. He picked up his phone, calling the only person that could change his mind. But even he knew, with his dark mind and his wolf-like persona, that she couldn't help him. No one could.

"Red?" He sobbed to her. She asked why he was crying, what was going on, but he couldn't tell her. "I'm sorry." His voice cracked at the shoddy apology. He ended the call, then traded the phone for the gun. Love, he should have called it.

_If I lay here, if I just lay here…_ The music sang to him. He liked the lyrics, thought that he'd meet his daughter during the song. He wanted to see her so badly. He wanted to be happy again.

Before he tasted the gun, he spoke his last words to the world. To the cruel world that had given him the damn disease that would take him away from his son.

"You win."

Sebastian growled, then bit the gun roughly.


	31. Punches

"Baby…" Isabelle groaned underneath him, shuddering with each movement.

"Just like that…?" He gasped as she swiveled her hips. His fingertips were clinging to the sticky fabric under them. "I can't hold on for long." He warned as his legs began to shake.

"Do it for me, Baby. Just a little longer." She purred into his ear. Their awkward position was making this difficult for him. His legs were bent at odd angles, and he was sure that it was her arms that were digging into his thigh. One more flick of her finger and he'd be done for.

"I've never lasted this long!" Simon whined, beads of sweat trickling from his forehead. She was taking far too long for his usual record time. What she was asking out of him was nearly impossible, even with his toned stomach and sturdy limbs.

"Oh, Simon!" She laughed, her breath tickling warmth up his neck. "You can't give up now, we're too far in." Isabelle sighed. She too was sweating, but managed to wipe chin against her shoulder to smear it. He couldn't believe she could do that in such a position.

"It hurts!" He screamed into her apartment. Isabelle laughed at him, her fingertips nearly slipping from the grip they had on the fabric.

"Just say the word, Baby, and we can end this." She teased. Simon gasped, falling to the ground and onto the spotted fabric.

"I quit!" He groaned, and she fell on top of him with such grace that he didn't feel a strong impact.

"It's okay Baby, not everyone is good at this." Isabelle soothed, stroking his collar bones.

"But I wanted it to last, for you!" Simon worried. She chuckled, and straddled his hips with her toned thighs. "No, I can't do that, I'm too sore." He objected.

"You were so good, Baby. So good…" She kissed into his neck. He shuddered, but not like his previous ones.

"We can't have sex after playing twister!" He reasoned.

"Oh, you're no fun," Isabelle said lightly, not caring as her hand snaked down to his zipper. "But don't worry, I think I can change that." She smiled deviously.

"I have no energy, Isabelle." Simon argued.

"Nonsense. I'll do all the work for you." She said, palming his hardness through his boxers. Simon panted, using his shaking hands to push hers away. Isabelle frowned at him, and then with her mischevious smile, she stood up. "You shouldn't have done that." She smiled. Simon swallowed heavily, watching her slip down her tights that clung to her with sweat as its paste. Her underwear was soaked, but in reasons more than their game, or at least the one they were playing before this.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a hushed tone. She slid her panties down, revealing a place that was perhaps just as glistening as the skin on her neck and forehead. Suddenly, he had the energy to run a marathon. Or at least one part of him did. Always for her.

"Do you want to have fun?" Isabelle teased, sliding down to her knees to where she was sitting across from his where he lay down, his elbows propping him up.

"Oh god, get over here." Simon growled, sitting up almost all the way and grabbing to place her on top of him. They both hissed when she sunk over him, and Simon nearly screamed at her for causing his thighs to burn as he thrust up. "No fun am I?" Simon wondered out loud as she moaned throughout her living room.

"God, you're so boring!" She screamed, her eyes shutting tight as he pounded into her with his now slick member. "Fuck, I could sleep!" Isabelle kept on.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck…" Simon hissed, moving his hips so fast that as he looked down, could barely see the passage that his engorged dick made into her. He was sure that his jeans were burning the insides of his thighs, but all thoughts passed through his mind like a thin liquid as he fucked her mercilessly.

"Ohohohoh!" Isabelle yelped, slowing her movements to a rough grind. Her fingernails dug into his fabric covered chest, possibly scratching him red underneath. "Simon!" She screamed, finally stopping. He shut his eyes, his head falling back in pure exhaustion.

"Simon…"

"I know Baby, that was great, but I really mean it this time. I'm tired."

"Simon-"

"I get it, this whole round two or three or maybe even four thing is really great. Amazing even! But my dick can't take that work anymore." He sighed in bliss.

"_Simon_-"

"You know, what the hell! I'm sure a good pussy-pounding will do us some good!" Simon cheered up, lifting her from his thigh and watching as he slipped out of her. He placed her carefully on the floor, eyeing the buttons of her sweaty shirt before beginning to loosen them with his tongue. She placed her hand on his arms, and taking that as a sign, he moved downward, licking her navel and absorbing her taste. Her salty skin began to taste the familiar sweetness that was her own, and he throbbed to have her.

"Simon!" She choked out through moans.

"So demanding." He chuckled, dipping his tongue between her folds. His tongue was wrapped in a warm, wet hug, and his looked up at her with a twinkle in his brown eyes. Her fingers were scratching the insides of her palms. Simon could no longer see her eyes, as she had shut them so tightly he feared her lids would bruise. The only thing open, perhaps, was her mouth as her moans turned to screams.

"Oh God! Yes!" Isabelle whimpered to him before a flood of emotions and flavor poured out around his tongue. With one last linger of his tongue, he pulled back, marveling at her as he sat.

"Simon-" She began again before he interrupted with a tug of his zipper.

"Already got it, Babe." He smiled lazily.

"No, Simon, I was trying to tell you that your phone has been buzzing!" Isabelle groaned with slight annoyance.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Simon asked, and she blushed at a thought that he was beginning to have. "Oh, sorry." He apologized, then began to scratch at the fabric in search of his phone. Whoever was texting him must've decided to call, and when he picked up the phone, it was his captain.

"Jem?" Simon asked.

"Simon! For heaven's sake! Do you ever answer your phone?" Jem huffed. "You obviously know where Clary lives right? Of course you do. I was calling to ask you to go out there and see what Jace is doing." He said with urgency.

"What is he doing over there?" Simon wondered to himself.

"What do you think?" He could hear the sarcasm dripping from Jem's voice as he spoke. Simon could picture an angered Jace yelling at his best friend. _His pregnant best friend._ "I've got some calls down from the station saying that they're fighting or whatever."

"I'm going over there." Simon said before quickly hanging up. Isabelle looked at him with a worried expression as he tucked himself back into his pants. "I promise that we'll finish this once I come back." He said, kissing her cheek.

"What are you going to do? Where are you going?" She asked him.

"I'm going to show your brother how much it hurts to leave you." He said quickly before standing up. He looked down at her, so exposed for him with her swollen skin and slick thighs. _Damn you, Herondale; _Simon thought.

* * *

Simon pulled up to her apartment, and the damn Herondale was standing on his car like an idiot. Wanting to spit his anger into his face, Simon slid out of his cruiser and approached the crazed-looking man.

"What the hell are you doing?" He gawked up at him. There was a phone pressed to Jace's ear, and Simon knew that his best friend was on the other line.

"Fuck off, Lewis." Jace said.

"I wouldn't have to if you would just leave my friend alone!" Simon snapped, and Jace turned his back to him to continue his call. "You know, just for that, I'm taking you down to the precinct." Simon said with agitation as he walked closer to Jace's car. Jace pulled his jacket to the side, revealing the badge to Simon who could care less. Just when he thought he was going to hid the badge again, Jace ripped it from its position and and threw it at Simon.

"I'm a cop, Rat, what are you going to do?" Jace teased. Simon stalked off from him, his feet burning into the cold cement as he imagined the things he'd do to Jace if he wouldn't go to jail for it. He reached into his car and pulled out his cell phone, call the person the matter would concern.

"Simon?" Isabelle asked after a few rings.

"Isabelle, I'm about to do something really stupid…" Simon sighed to her.

"What are you talking about?" She questioned with worry clear in her tone.

"I"m going to kick your brother's ass, and then I want you to drive him home." Simon said as simple as if he were describing police protocol. There was a small pause before Isabelle began to speak, or more or less shout at him.

"What?! What is he doing? Why are you going to kick his ass?!" She said so loud that he had to pull back the small phone.

"Just tell me how long I'll have to be without you for doing this?" Simon winced.

"So much trouble." She growled before hanging up on him, probably to drive over to Clary's. Simon thought he might as well get a few punches is before she got there. Turning his head, Simon realized that Jace was gone.

"Shit." He groaned with anger clear on his face. He was so mad that he was going to lose his girlfriend for the night because Jace was being an asshole. Sure, Simon could just yell at him, but what fun was that?

Slowly, the young detective began his journey to Clary's apartment, thinking of just where he'd punch Jace.

* * *

"What the fuck?" Jace said, reeling back and clutching his jaw that was blossoming a familiar violet. Simon shoved his shoulders angrily and walked over to Clary. She had her mouth open wide, nervous with his sudden temper. He might have reached her had it not been for Jace grabbing his collar and throwing him to the floor.

"Jace, Simon! Stop!" Clary screamed as they grunted punches and kicks on the ground. Jace grabbed Simon's head, slamming it into her wooden floor with a sickening thud. Then, Simon, seeing his advantage, slammed his knee into the part most sensitive to Jace. The part that was responsible for creating their child. It was as if the child could feel his pain, and then their was a small flutter in her stomach. In the few days he'd been gone, she was worried that he would miss the joyous moment, but gazing at him in his extremely pained state made her think that he'd just die on the spot.

"Trust me," Simon said as he lazily skimmed his eyes to Clary's. "It hurts me _just as much _as it hurts him." But she had no clue what he was talking about. Jace was still groaning on the ground, and she didn't want to waste anymore time before the baby moved again.

"Jace!" She gasped, her hand clutching her stomach and nearly dropping Andrew. Simon scoffed at him, dusting his shoulder as he stood. Jace looked at her. His face was flushed a pained crimson and each breath he exhaled was pushed out between his clenched teeth.

"What…_ is it_?" He panted, clutching himself in a fiery agony.

"She moved!" Clary cried out, and Simon's face softened. Jace struggled his way to his feet, gasping a few heavy breaths before sauntering over to her. His hand landed lazily on her swollen abdomen, frowning as he felt nothing.

"Why can't I feel her?" He asked, still panting.

"She's too small, but I swear I've felt that before!" She vowed, still smiling. From the front door, Clary heard heavy footsteps, and lifted her gaze to see a flustered Isabelle holding her phone in her hands. One look at Jace's chin might as well have caused steam to come out of her ears like a cartoon character.

"Izzy-" Simon began, but she slapped him clear across the face that it stopped him mid-sentence.

"Damn you, Simon." She huffed, but shocked everyone in the room when she kissed him roughly.

"Uhm, ouch." He spoke in a mere whisper. Isabelle turned roughly, turning to face Clary and Jace.

"Now tell me, what the hell happened here?" She growled. As if she didn't see the small child before, he made his presence known when he hopped down from Clary's arms and stood between Clary and Jace. Making them look like some generic photo of a family that someone would throw out of a purchased picture frame.

"You," Isabelle said, her manicured fingernail pointing at Clary. "Speak first."


	32. Bad for You

"Well, you see…" Clary stuttered, looking at Andrew.

"Yeah, seeing. I'm not seeing anything right now." Isabelle said with agitation. Clary winced, pushing her shoulder into Jace's hold. Andrew had his hand on Clary's thigh, occasionally pulling on the fabric of her jeans. This made her laugh, startling the group. She couldn't just say that he may have looked like the spitting image of his father; but that he had her personality.

"What's so funny?" Isabelle asked her with a dwindling irritation. Simon smiled even though he knew nothing of her humorous conclusion. Jace held her tighter and probably thought she'd lost her mind.

"Because," She snorted. "He's just like me!" She giggled. Probably looking maddened to her friends and boyfriend. Andrew looked up at her with wide eyes as if their fear reflected in his.

"Andrew?" Simon asked.

"Huh?" Andrew questioned with his high-pitched voice. Jace snorted at this, and Andrew still could not see what was funny.

"Okay, now that you two have had a good laugh, tell me what is going on. Why do you have a kid? And where did he come from?" Isabelle interrupted. Clary bit her lip, her eyes darting to Jace's for some form of explanation that would sooth her.

"Right," Jace nodded.

"Isabelle, this might take a while." She reasoned in a hope that the beauty would accept her rejection for an explanation.

"I have time." Isabelle argued.

"Fine," Clary huffed. "A long time ago, a little more than three years, I was pregnant." Isabelle's eyes widened, but of course she must've known of the assault that occurred in Clary's apartment all those years ago. "Actually, we might want to take a seat for this." She suggested, and they all scampered to the sofa and loveseat; Andrew taking place on Clary's lap.

"Okay… three years ago… pregnant." She said, placing her thoughts. The last time she had ever recounted what had happened to her was in front of a jury. Clary could remember so clearly, her stomach flat and her husband gone, probably taking care of their infant son who she couldn't bare to see. "I-I left the door open. I forgot to lock it, and I took a nap. Beth, my daughter, I left her in the living room to play with her toys…" She always froze whenever she talked about the last time she remembered her daughter, before she was screaming…

"There was some laundry I had to do, and when I returned, someone was holding her. Before I could even think, I was already lunging for her… they had a gun. There, there was a pain in my shoulder. Before I could even react to that, he pistol whipped me. I was knocked unconscious for I don't know how long, but when I woke up, people were shouting at me to hold on. To keep fighting. I could hear my babies heartbeats, I was pregnant with twins." Clary thought of the two boys kicking inside of her, of how one should have lived.

"They had removed the bullet. I woke up from surgery and saw my husband, empty arms, crying in the chair next to my bed. There was a TV turned on, and a picture of my daughter's face was on it. It would momentarily flash to people with candles next to my apartment. Our apartment at the time. I kept asking him 'where was our daughter,' but he would just keep crying and holding my hand. I eventually put two and two together, and when I did, the machine that was monitoring the babies heartbeats went off.

"One of them did survive though, but I couldn't even touch him. I was so messed up that I couldn't even love my son. Sebastian must've hated me for that," Jace hugged her as she ranted. "I went to their funerals, and then he called me one day, night, whatever, saying that he was sorry. He hung up after that, and being a cop, you know what someone means when they say they're sorry. I drove to his house and found him in the living room, his radio was still playing, and he had his gun hanging in his hand. It was too late for me to do anything for him, so I just called a bus and had them take care of the mess. But the baby was still with him, and I to watch them take him from me again; and this time I still did nothing." They were all silent for a long time before Isabelle decided to speak up.

"So Andrew is your…?" Isabelle began before Clary widened her eyes. She didn't know when or how she would tell Andrew that she was his mother, but now was definitely not such a moment. Simon decided to change the subject to a happier tune.

"And then you met Jace."

"Yes, and then I met Jace," Clary smiled at him. "And then I got shot and then I was stuck with Jace." She teased. He cleared his throat next to her. "Oh come on, you wouldn't even let me leave the house for the first few weeks!" Clary reasoned.

"You had been shot!" Jace reasoned.

"Yeah, but you could have at least opened a window or something."

"If I would've done that, you would've found some way to escape. I mean, you even called your brother to bust you out a few times." He laughed.

"And then she happened." This time they all smiled as they looked at her slight swell of a stomach. Andrew looked around as if they were actually talking about someone in the room.

"Who?" He asked.

"The baby." Clary answered softly.

"Ohhh." Andrew realized.

"She? You guys already know what you're having?!" Isabelle and even Simon squealed with joy. Jace and Clary both shook their heads at her.

"No, he just thinks that it's going to be a girl." Clary rolled her eyes. "But I have to admit, the thought of having a girl sounds amazing. They were so fun to dress up…" Her smile saddened at the memory of squeezing Beth into a fluffy dress while she kicked out at her.

"You think that's great now, but remember you had a younger sister, Jace." Isabelle teased. Jace tensed next to Clary as if he were thinking back to all the times he must have caught his sister up to no good. "I mean, you helped me sneak out!" She laughed. "Imagine how Andrew is going to be with her. She'll have him wrapped around her little finger!" Jace was no longer smiling.

* * *

Punch after punch Jonathan beat into the peanut bag. He couldn't help but hear his father yell at him as he exercised. _Weak,_ his father whispered into his thoughts, lowering his self esteem. Jonathan kept throwing quick punches but could not drown out his father's harsh words. With defeat, he stopped his assault and let out a heavy sigh.

His chest was slick with sweat, his shirt having been discarded an hour ago after it became nothing more than a drenched towel clinging to his skin. The shorts his mother had bought for him were heavy on his thighs. One whiff of the air and Jonathan was nauseated by his body's odor in the loft. He looked across the open room, seeing the scratches on the old wooden floor and the glare that the large windows put on them. His mattress was on the other side of the room with a thick blanket laying wrinkled on it. Clary had commented that he had become one of those TV portrayed loft owners the way he decorated his home.

He picked up his phone that was placed on the floor, pressing a few controls until music was playing on the bluetooth stereo that was also a gift from his mother that was tired of him always having earbuds plugged in. Though, Jonathan doubted anyone would want to hear songs from two thousand three. The upbeat tune of _Change Clothes_ echoed through the loft as he turned his back to the stereo.

Stalking to the bathroom, he noted the gray clouds that hung low in the sky. Had it not been for them, it would have been the perfect weather for running, or so his step-dad would say. Jonathan momentarily wondered if he should even take a shower at all, if he could just run through the eventual precipitation and show off his toned abdominals.

He shook his head with a chiding smile and turned on the shower with a calloused grip. The bathroom was small. So small that he had to watch his footing when he woke up at night so that he wouldn't turn on the shower when he wanted to wash his hands.

Briefly he considered getting a new place to live in, but then thought better as no place would suit him more perfectly than the shady loft. Plus, he had enemies, and enemies would have a rougher time finding him in the many lofts of New York. His mother said that they weren't enemies, just loving relatives that wanted to see him after he was honorably discharged, but Jonathan hated the display of feelings they gave him; always commenting on how big he'd gotten since he was a small child. 'No shit,' he wanted to say back to them each time.

Cold water slapped against his back as he massaged shampoo through his hair. Clary didn't understand how he liked cold showers, but he knew that if he didn't take them that his muscles would be crying the next day. As he rubbed the bar of soap down his stomach, a part of him recognized that he was alone, and that no one would hear him. _I'm not a god damn teenager, I can get a woman, _Jonathan frowned and yet his hands continued their journey South. He would have kept on had it not been for him realizing that the song had clicked off and his phone began playing it in the small bathroom.

Jonathan didn't bother turning off the shower, and instead he slipped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the path of the weeping head. He reached for the gun that was placed in one of his bathroom drawers, loading it with a few bullets in preparation. Before he could click the safety off, he heard a familiar song that began to play at a much louder volume from his stereo. He groaned to himself, not caring for the music that landed far from his taste.

"_Shout when you want to get off the ride._" The song demanded of him from the other room. Jonathan knew that the moment he stepped out of the bathroom that she'd be dancing like she always would whenever her favorite songs were playing. Why she liked _The kills, _he didn't know.

"Rebecca?" Jonathan asked in amazement. She was not dancing, and in fact stripping her shirt off. His eyes bugged out wide, and he began to recall what he was about to do in the shower before she showed up.

"Jon…" She smiled, tossing the shirt in his direction. He swallowed as he looked at the thin fabric. Something clouded his vision before falling to the floor. _Her_ _bra_. Jonathan shook his head, looking down at floor to prevent him from seeing her in such a state of vulnerability.

"Rebecca, we _can't_." He sighed to her. The familiar sound of her zipper was heard across the loft, and Jonathan wanted to cry for denying her.

"I miss you, Jonathan, of course we can." She said in a hushed tone that had him slowly stalking over to her.

"But I'm bad for you," he said, looking down at her feet. She was now just as naked as he was, though he had a towel to cover himself.

"And I'm good for you." Rebecca amended, placing her hands at towel that was barely clinging to him. He felt a gust of air around him thighs, only being warmed by her touch, revealing what he had left off in the shower.

"Clary's going to kill me." Jonathan groaned, still not looking up at her, only watching her manipulate him with her small, _warm_ hands.

"And _I'm_ going to kill you if you don't look at me." She threatened.

"Wouldn't want that," he said, giving in and looking into her eyes that were the color of coffee. Her hair had gotten longer, thinly covering her breast from his view. He didn't know what came over him, or what was to come, but he wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her to the mattress.

"I knew you missed me, Jon." Rebecca sobbed, there being no longer a hint of that confidence that brought her here.

"_So much_," he admitted into the crook of her neck.


	33. Bro Code

"I think I should get going," Simon said, pressing his hands to his thighs as he stood up from the loveseat. It was getting late outside, and it had been raining for thirty minutes. The downpour appeared to be getting worse, so Clary figured that's why he wanted to leave

"Why?" Isabelle asked him.

"Rebecca's in town and I can't keep her waiting if she's at my apartment." Isabelle stood up immediately, and her face flushed ten different shades of red.

"Who is Rebecca?" Isabelle snapped at him.

"Calm down, Babe, it's my sister." He soothed, and she calmed down.

"Oh, well then I'm coming with you." She smiled at him. Simon looked shocked to hear the words leave her mouth.

"You want to meet my sister?" Simon gasped. Isabelle didn't seem fazed by the subject at all, more or less confused on why he was apparently nervous.

"Why not?" She wondered.

"I don't know, I thought you'd think it was too early to meet my family." Simon reasoned, scared on how his girlfriend would act.

"Simon, we've been dating for almost four months, why not?" She smiled. He shrugged at her with one of his own curving his lips.

"Okay then, let's go get her before she gets herself into trouble." Simon laughed. Clary's ears twitched at a fear of hers. The last time Rebecca was here, she was dating Jonathan, and that didn't end well. Her and Jonathan were engaged, but with Jonathan heading off into the air force and Rebecca wanting to go off to college, they ended their relationship of three years.

"Jace, are you coming?" Isabelle asked nervously. Jace looked at Clary, scared to say that he was staying when she could have wanted him to leave.

"No," Clary spoke up, holding his hand. They both stood up, her carrying Andrew against her hip as Simon and Isabelle left.

* * *

"What do we do _now_?" Jonathan asked Rebecca as she laid on top of him, clearly exhausted from having him moving around inside of her.

"We make things work, think about it Jon. You're not longer in the military, and I've got a job interview here. There's nothing stopping us from being together." She smiled. He couldn't help but join her in the excitement of being together.

"Really? You want to get back together?" Jonathan grinned.

"After all we've been through, I thought you knew better than to ask stupid questions." She kissed his chest, letting her hand trail lazily to his midsection.

Then his phone rang.

"Answer it," she laughed, and he groaned as he moved her away so he could pick up the vibrating iPhone.

"Yo," Jonathan said once he's swiped his thumb across the glass screen. He heard a familiar voice laugh across the line.

"Idiot, you slept with her, didn't you?" Clary groaned with amusement. Jonathan, and even Rebecca froze at her words.

" … what makes you say that?" Jonathan asked with more wonderment than confusion. Rebecca leaned in to listen to the conversation, and he didn't care much to pull away from her. Not after her being gone for so long. Hell, she could listen to his conversations with his mother if she wanted to!

"Because you act stupid around her, very stupid." Clary answered. "But know this, you're dead when I see you. Or, at least when Simon sees you." She laughed.

"Oh come _on_, can't he get over that one discrepancy?" Jonathan groaned, remembering Simon's anger.

"You broke the bro code, Jonathan. I don't make the rules." Clary argued. Though she was right, Jonathan wasn't allowed to date any relatives of his friends, but it wasn't his fault that Rebecca had grabbed his attention so roughly that he received whiplash the first time he slept with her.

"Fuck the _bro_ _code_. I'm a grown ass man!" Jonathan reasoned.

"You didn't _fuck_ the bro code, Jonathan, you _fucked_ Simon's sister. Your best friends sister." True to her words, Jonathan _did_ fuck Rebecca. But fucking turned into something so much more, but it had destroyed the friendship that the group of four had, making things awkward between the pair of siblings.

"And I'm sorry, but aren't you friends with Isabelle _and_ carrying her brother's child? And Simon is basically your brother too, so little sister, it is you who tramples our beloved code." Jonathan said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Don't act wise with _me_, Jonathan." Clary growled, and Jonathan thought he'd heard someone snicker next to her.

"Wait, _please_ don't tell me you're back together with him?" He groaned, holding Rebecca to him. There was a brief pause before he heard her nervous laugh.

"And would you look at that, I think the baby's moving!" She gasped. "Gotta go, Jonathan." She said, hanging up with little warning. Jonathan shuddered, looking around the mattress for a pair of shorts he'd changed out of the night before.

"Where are you going, Babe? We still got some time to make up for." Rebecca whined. He turned around, smiling as he stretched his hand out to her.

"I want you to meet Clary's baby daddy," Jonathan said with a dry laugh. "That is, before him and I have a little chat."

* * *

**AN: So, as some of you may have noticed, last chapter may have gotten a little, smutty... _But, with the addition of summer break, _I have more time to add in... extras. So chapter eleven and twelve have been edited! **


	34. Baby Daddy

"Jonathan! Stop!" Rebecca screamed as he lunged at Jace. Clary stood back in horror as her brother tried to attack her… what was he to her? A boyfriend? Romantic interest? Clary shook away the betraying thoughts as Jace flipped Jonathan around and pinned his arms behind his back.

The day was going well after Simon had left. Jace and Clary had talked about their future, how he was going to get help, how they were going to go to couples counseling. Jace had nearly flipped at that one, saying that they weren't going to separate for as long as he was breathing, but she insisted that this relationship wasn't to suffer like her last one.

"I already got punched today, and I am _not_ getting punched again." Jace growled as he lifted Jonathan to his feet. Andrew was sitting on the couch, messing with some rubix cube that her brother had gotten him. Jace had already gotten attacked twice today, who knows what would happen if Clary opened the door for another person.

"Why the _hell_ did you take him back?" Jonathan asked Clary, wiping some blood that was pooling in the corners of his mouth. They were both roughed up a bit, Jace already had promise of an ugly bruise on his chin, and she was sure that the tackle Jonathan maneuvered was to leave some sensitive skin on his abdominals.

"Because I love him, Jonathan." Clary sternly spoke. Her brother looked taken aback by this, and then his feet turned towards Jace as if to lunge again.

"Do you love her?" Jonathan growled. Jace didn't even need a moment to spare to consider his answer. She already knew his answer, if anything. He had told her several times while they were undercover that he loved them both, especially the baby if she was ever concerned of him not being ready to take the responsibility of being a parent.

"Yes, if I'm sure of anything, it is that I love her and our child." Both brother and sister cringed. Jonathan was just getting used to the idea of being an uncle not only to Andrew, but to the baby growing inside of Clary. When she had first told him that she was pregnant, she was surprised he didn't put her in witness protection to keep her away from Jace.

_"Hey Jon…?" Clary said once she had arrived at his house. Jonathan smiled at her as he pulled some disgusting looking drink out of his fridge. Ever since he had come back home, he'd been a health-nut, insisting that his sister dine on the buffet that nature had made for humans. He nearly had a heart attack when she brought fast food to his house. _

_"Still eating from the burger place I see?" He laughed as he stood up straight. Clary looked down at the white paper bag in her hand. There were more than just burgers in the bag, but she would save that for later. _

_"It's called McDonald's, Jonathan. How the hell do you not know that?" She scoffed. Looking around, she could not see a place to sit down, so she walked over to his mattress and took a seat. "Why do you live like some criminal?" Clary wondered out loud. _

_"I recall that this is my home, Clarissa, and that you are a guest in said home." Jonathan frowned. She shrugged, taking out one of the burgers and began unwrapping the wax paper from it. "Anyways, how's life after being undercover?" He asked with excitement, though there was some thinly concealed disgust for knowing that she was with Jace most of the time. _

_"Actually, I came here to talk to you about that." She was surprised at how calm she sounded, and how it fooled her brother in believing everything was okay. When, in fact, she was so scared that she thought she'd drown in anxiety. _

_"What is it? Are you okay?" Seeing the chance to get the truth out, Clary turned his own words to her benefit. _

_"Yes, I'm okay. We're okay." The emphasis only confused her brother. _

_"We're?" He questioned. "As in you and Jace?" She shook her head at his words. _

_"Then who's okay?" Jonathan wondered. She stuck her hand in the paper bag, reaching to grab something for him to see. _

_"I got you something while I was undercover." She smiled, pulling out shirt that was rolled and tied with a white ribbon. _

_"Why? I could literally drive there and buy the same shirt in less than an hour." He shook his head, beginning to walk to over to her to grab the cotton shirt. Clary tossed it over to him, not wanting him to be too close when he found out. He untied the ribbon, letting it hang around his neck. With a flick of his wrists, the shirt spread out in front of him, handing only by his fingertips. She could not see his initial reaction, only when he lowered it to show his terrified expression. Better than anger…_

_"No… please tell me this is some cruel joke that Jace had planned out?" Jonathan worried. Clary was too scared to do anything, to move her head into a steady nod, so she settled for the only thing that worked on her big brother. _

_She started crying. _

_"Oh God, please don't cry!" He pleaded, running over to the mattress to put his arms around her. Clary leaned her head into his shoulder, probably rubbing snot into the cotton. _

_"I'm so sorry." Clary wailed into his shirt. Jonathan hugged her tighter, kissing the top of her head as if they were still children and she had just fallen down thanks to his rough behavior during a game of tag. _

_"You have nothing to be sorry!" Jonathan soothed. _

_"Yes, I do. I let you down!" She sobbed. Clary knew that she must have looked like a brat to him. Or a nervous reck. Hormones were probably the cause. _

_"No!" Jonathan insisted, nearly scaring her and making her cry harder. "I'm just a little surprised is all!" _

_"I'm a whore! A goddamn harlot like the ones I arrest!" Clary concluded with a squeak of anger. She could practically feel Jonathan rolling his eyes. "I can't even remember if our first time was at night or day! I was too drunk to remember!" Her eyes opened wide, standing up straight. Her fingers flew into her mouth and she began to chew vigorously at the nails. Then she gasped loudly, scaring Jonathan. _

_"What if it isn't his? What if I went home with some other man or christ, what if I went home with someone else from the precinct?" Jonathan stood up and hugged her tightly. _

_"Clary, I know for a fact that Jace wouldn't let that happen." That, at least calmed her from thinking the worst. _

_"But you hate Jace!" Clary accused. Jonathan sighed loudly, still rocking her back in forth. _

_"I don't hate Jace, I'm a big brother, am I supposed to like the fact that he goes home with you every night?" He chuckled with a tight throat. _

_"So you don't hate him?" She asked. _

_"No, I don't." _

_"Are you mad?" Clary questioned with fear. _

_"Mad, no. Just a little surprised. And excited. I'm keeping the shirt by the way. You aren't' giving it to Charlotte, I'll be damned if she lets Henry wear that shirt." Jonathan vowed. Clary snorted at how her brother was already getting used to the role of being an uncle again. "The title of world's best uncle belongs to me dammit." He smiled._

"If you give me just _one_ more reason to doubt that you deserve my sister, I will gladly end you. Got it?" Jonathan huffed.

"Got it." Jace said with a swallow. Rebecca placed her hand on Jonathan's bicep, hoping to calm him. She whispered something to him and then they were standing.

"I hope the next time I see you Clary, I won't have to apologize as much," Rebecca smiled. Jonathan mumbled a goodbye to them, not before looking back at Andrew and winking, making the small boy giggle.


	35. Not Like The Rest

**AN: Sorry it's been a while, I've been a "little" busy with other stories that I've managed to forget about you guys :( So I tried to make this chapter a bit longer. Though, you may hate me for it later...**

**Anyways! Hope you enjoy reading it, _because here it is_**

* * *

"Andrew, get up," Clary laughed at the toddler that had nuzzled his head into her stomach while all three of them slept… well, all four if you counted the baby. Jace had his arms wound around her waist, breathing into her neck as he slept as well. The morning looked promising from her perspective as she ruffled the obsidian hair of her long-lost son. Of a son that she never dreamed she'd see again.

For the past few weeks, she'd been involved in working to find out exactly why his mother had been a target, while at the same time trying to earn her rights back as his legal guardian. Being a cop, she was allowed to watch over him, but until it was officially declared, he could be taken away at any time. _Just like his brother and sister..._

"Uh uh…" Andrew groaned, pulling on the blanket till it covered his head from the festering sunlight. Jace muttered something in his sleep or on the outer most parts of his consciousness.

It had been weeks since Andrew arrived at the precinct, and nearly as long since she forgave Jace and let him back into her life. Ever since then he'd been showering her with adoration by usually waking up early than her and preparing breakfast in bed. The only reason he wasn't up yet was the fact that he'd spent all night talking to the growing life in her abdomen, and in doing so made Andrew take an interest in his younger half-sibling.

"Come on, we're going to find out if the baby is a boy or girl." Clary insisted as Andrew roamed underneath the covers. Jace's fingers started moving around her belly as she was talking, ignoring the fact that they had responsibilities as both adoptive parents and a couple focused on being role models for what he hoped was a baby girl inside her.

"Really?" Andrew said, peeking his head through the covers to look up at her. Clary couldn't help but get lost in his eyes, wondering if Sebastian had ever considered Andrew looking exactly like him.

"Yeah, so come on and get dressed so I can drop you off at Simon and Izzy's." She finished with a smile. Immediately, Andrew was excited at visiting her partner's house and bolted from the bed, tugging off his pajama shirt as he ran. Clary laughed when she heard the bedroom door slam shut as he padded off to the room they had set up for him. Well, it was his room three years ago, but now they had set up a small bed and pasted wall stickers around the room. He loved it.

"We're really going to find out if it's a girl?" Jace whispered, sitting up in bed.

"Yeah, that is if we don't miss our appointment." She threatened with a laugh, watching as he too bolted from the bed after Andrew, tugging off his shirt in the same manner. What should have been a long time ago would they have found out about the baby, but she kept putting it off every time the doctor asked about the sex and if they wanted to know it. She was just terrified that when she looked at the monitor that it would be her Beth resting in her womb. The doctor had worried her with the thought that with her past of three kids, it put her at a greater risk in this pregnancy, also considering she'd had a miscarriage along the way. At the last appointment, her doctor - _Dr. Owens, as Clary did not want to change doctors_ \- had asked Clary to come at a sooner time so that she could check up on something she saw in the baby's position. That had sent Jace into a panic, but Dr. Owens assured him it was just procedure as she progressed into the third trimester. It was at that time that Clary asked if they could determine the gender, which she agreed to once she was comfortable.

Jace had assured her that he didn't care if he had to go the whole nine months without knowing the gender of his daughter (yes he said that) if it made her feel comfortable. She was more closer to labor than conception in her pregnancy timeline. How many months was she? Five, six… seven, just about eight! Today had to be the day she found out, unless she'd prefer in the delivery room.

She walked to her wardrobe, opening it and pulling out a shirt that left enough space where someone would have to guess if she'd just gained weight or if she were pregnant. Clary was already showing a good amount since the previous children she'd carried, and that having something to do with the expansion of her abdominal swelling. Thick black leggings covered her toned thighs, and cushiony flats helped with the swollen feet she now sported.

There was knock at the bedroom door and Clary laughed as she walked over to answer it. Once the door was opened, Jace was standing, buttoning up his new shirt as she stared and waited for a response to his knocking.

"Yes?" She giggled. He looked up, flashing her a crooked grin before planting a soft kiss on her surprised lips.

"I love you," his voice sang as he leaned down to plant another soft kiss on her lips. The air in her lungs drained in one long sigh, her smile making her appear as a drunken idiot. With a quick thought, she wiped the foolish grin from her face. She's promised herself that they'd see where they stood before returning to their old habits. "Say it back," he groaned.

"Why?" She teased.

"So I can get ready and prove to you that I'm right about our child." Jace responded with a whine that fit Andrew more than it did him. Clary knew that the need to have her say those three words stretched farther than he was telling. He was probably worried that she couldn't love a 'broken man,' as he had so generously put it. She could see in the way he held her, the way his eyes never left her that he was waiting for the day that she would tell him to leave.

"Jace Wayland, I love you more than I can ever express in those three words." She insisted, biting her tongue afterward to keep from saying anything else. Using the fake name wayland had a special meaning between the two of them. Reminding him of how she had risked everything to see him again, their time they spent together as a 'married' couple.

"Thank you," Jace said softly before turning around and heading toward the smell of… pancakes? He disappeared into the kitchen and she debated whether her morning nausea was going to make a brutal comeback. When it didn't, Instantly her feet sprinted from the door and down the hall, not caring that she was carrying a baby and was a grown woman. Andrew was humming a song to himself as he crossed her path, nearly getting trampled. As her cravings grew, so did her aggressiveness. Was she going insane? Maybe. But Jace didn't utter a word as he caught her dipping strange items in her ice cream and in the meantime buying exotic fruits and veggies.

"Is that pancakes?!" She started, almost slipping as she made the turn into the kitchen to see her baby's father leaning over the stove as he poured creme-colored batter onto a heated pan. It was like he expected her to look so eager that he was already chuckling to himself as he flipped the forming pancake. Clary took a seat on one of the bar stools while waiting for his response.

"Yes, I figured you'd want some considering you talked about them in your sleep." Jace answered. She chewed on her lip as she pondered what she had dreamed about. In her head were the faint images of… a little girl. Her little girl.

"I was-" Clary cleared her throat of the blockage of emotions that had suddenly appeared there. "I was dreaming of Beth, and how she loved it when Sebastian had showed her the process of making pancakes. She'd call pancakes the funniest things back then. Pakes. Made her father go wild whenever he said it," her gaze took in his saddened expression. Clary didn't feel sad though, just a pang of longing for her daughter.

"You ate all the strawberries!" Clary heard a little boy groan, followed by the sound of the fridge door shutting heavily. She turned and saw Andrew, his face red and angry as he climbed on one of the bar stools next to her. His small hands rested under his chin before having enough and looking up at her with annoyance. "That baby is going to be really fat when it comes out of you… Yeah, it is." Andrew huffed. Jace snorted as he continued to cook, but she was just as vulnerable as him when it came to Andrew's outburst.

"I'm sure you were a little heavy for your dad to carry when you were a baby." Clary blurted, immediately regretting it when the little boy's face puckered in confusion.

"Dad? What dad?" He questioned, looking at Jace and possibly wondering if he shared the same father as his unborn half-sister. Speaking of, Clary looked at the kitchen clock and saw minutes ticking by that they should have been scurrying to the car.

"Uh, you know what? I think we can put these pancakes in a bag and eat them on the way to the hospital?!" Clary said with a tight smile and an even tighter laugh. Jace nodded his head, clicking the knob on the stove to turn it off. Andrew scratched the back of his head, glancing around the room before settling his eyes on her with curiosity evident in them. "And when we find out what I'm having, we can go shopping for baby stuff. Maybe even get you a few toys for your room too!" Clary winked at him, grateful when his curiosity simmered into excitement.

"Okay!" He cheerfully exclaimed, hopping off the stool and making her and Jace cringe with worry. When he safely landed, he dashed to the couch where his winter coat was throat; shoving his hands through the sleeves and looking at them with an expectant expression. She turned stood and walked over to dive her hands into the cabinets to grab the plastic bags. Handing them to Jace for him to take care of while she prepared to walk Andrew to the car. Something just didn't… feel right.

Did that make sense? No, it probably didn't. There was a strange tightening to her abdomen, and she could feel a slight sting to it. Like her muscles had been forced into an ice bath after a long run.

"Hey, can you save a pancake out, I think the baby's hungry-"

"Holy shit!" Jace blurted, running over to her and barking at Andrew to get Clary to the car. The little boy nodded his head reverently, grabbing Clary's hand and guiding her along to the elevator. Jace stayed behind and was dialing a number on the house phone before she had been pulled out of the apartment. She saw how panicked his expression was as he began to speak the first words to the person he was calling.

"It's okay, the baby just must've hit her head." Andrew soothed, continuing to walk Clary down the long hall to the elevator. She hadn't the faintest clue of what he was talking about. Before she could begin to figure it out, she nearly slipped on something - probably a spill - and grabbed her son for support. He nodded his head, patting her stomach and whispering something to the baby as she steadied herself.

"_People should learn to clean up their mess_…" Clary began before looking down at the floor and seeing smudges of her reflection in crimson droplets.

"We just have to get to the doctor so she can put a bandaid on her head." Andrew muttered to himself while pressing the elevator button confidently. She nodded absentmindedly, putting her hand over her stomach and silently begging the baby to kick her back. She had to hold onto the elevator wall as a wave of vertigo hit her. Clary slid down onto the floor, glancing at a now terrified Andrew. The white bottom of his shoes were stained red, along with the worn edges of his jeans that had managed to touch the ground as well.

"Go… go get Jace and I'll hold open the door." She said gently, brushing his hair from his forehead and smiling at him. He quickly spoke in agreement before taking off down the hall they had just walked down.

"We'll be okay," Clary assured her unborn child, resting a hand over her stomach and patting it softly. "He's going to tell you how much you scared him when you're older. I know it." She continued. A gasp erupted from her throat as the baby began to kick at her, more urgently than it had before. If she could, Clary would be smiling had it not been for the aches the baby was causing in her stomach. "There, you see? We're all right. Linette is going to tell us that you're okay, then laugh at your father and I for getting worked up over nothing. And your aunt Charlotte - _Lotte_ \- is going to rush over with Henry, bragging that she got to the hospital before Jonathan."

She was about to press on the elevator buttons again before noticing that she had smeared some blood on them. In the small pause, someone on a lower level had called for its services, making the doors shut and pull her down to them. The baby was kicking rapidly inside of her, reminding Clary of the day she'd woken up with an unmoving twin and one panicking inside of her.

When the elevator door opened again, red and blue lights were rolling around the lobby of the apartment complex. Two men in uniform were waiting by the door with an orange stretcher, sprinting to her and easing her close to it. She recognized one of them by the softly sparkle of his skin and the perfect flip of his hair.

"Maggy, what's… happening? Why am I bleeding?" She asked one of them as he gently lowered her back flat until she was lying down over the orange plastic. "D-did Jace call you?" She stuttered. Her skin prickled, as if she were cold, when in fact she began to feel numb. The two men lifted her up and began to walk her out of the building before she screamed weakly at them to stop. "Wait! I need Jace! Whe-_where is he_?" Clary worried with drooping eyelids.

"Clary, he called alerted us that you were bleeding… pretty heavily." Magnus began to explain. "He said that your doctor had informed you two that the baby was in a breech position at your anomaly scan?" Clary whispered a 'yes' while they lifted the stretcher in the ambulance. "I've spoken with your doctor over the phone on the way here, and coupled with bleeding… Clary we think you may have a condition called placenta praevia, _untreated_ at that." He grimaced.

"You're haemorrhaging."

* * *

**AN: _Dun Dun Dun_**

**Leave your comments in the reviews! (I love reading them btw)**


	36. Epilogue

People were staring at her. Waiting for her to move her small feet across the tiled floor. His golden eyes were waiting expectantly, anxious for her to make her way toward him. How could he be so… calm? She could barely stop her stomach from emptying itself as she swallowed down the idea of her messing anything up. _You've practiced this! You know what to do! _She reassured herself as she took a wary step in his direction. The crowd smiled, nodding approvingly as a pleasant yet familiar tune ignited across the room and reached her ears. They'd practiced with this song. Simple. All she had to do was place her ivory hands in his and trust him… it was natural to trust him. He told her that she'd look beautiful in the fluffy dress, and she did! Several people had agreed with his opinion. There was pent up emotion in her chest by the time his large, calloused hands took her palm delicately.

"So, what do you think?" He asked as he spun her closely to him. She nearly tripped as his feet took a sharp turn, taking her along with him. Cameras flashed like stars twinkling in the distance as she forced down a heated blush. What was the point of this? They had danced on many different occasions. Most of the time it was to entertain the crowd because they fit so well against each other. Her small, and him attentive to that fact as he moved her fluidly despite her shaky legs.

"It's pretty. I like the flowers." She commented softly. He hated when she mumbled, but how was he to hear her over the height difference and upbeat music? Though, in his defense, she _did _pick it out. "But… why did we have to dress like - like-"

"Royalty?" He grinned. She smiled, not entirely sure his answer was correct but not wanting to make a fool of herself. Her fiery curls had been done special. The way the ceiling lights hit them, the cameras flashing were able to catch the golden swirls that were her natural highlights. Isabelle said she looked like a princes. However, that didn't comb over the fact that she had stuck several pins to keep her hair up in the fancy bun. "Do you forgive me for making you wear the dress?" He pouted. She giggled, causing the photographers to get excited. "You look beautiful, just like I said you would." He added.

"It's _itchy. _You didn't say it would be _itchy_." She reminded him as he spun her once again, this time the crowd joining them on the large dance floor that was filled with warm lighting and flowers. "Why couldn't I wear a suit like Andrew? It would be like pajamas!" She whined in her bell-like voice that chimed up to his ears.

"Because you're a _girl_." He chuckled, tapping her on her small nose. "And, because _you know who _would flip out if you showed up in a tuxedo." He whispered like it was there secret. She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

"That's what it's called? A tuxedo?" She asked him with interest. His cleanly shaven chin bobbed up and down, making her throat bubble laughter - as she was so easily amused at her age. She was cut off mid-laugh when he twirled her in a quick spin. As she gasped, he scooped her up and into his strong arms that had held her through nightmares, long-lasting colds, and injuries that she wasn't _entirely _guilty for. She locked her arms around his neck, smelling a sweet smell that faintly reminded her of fancy restaurants and stiff dress pants. Her small eyes wandered the floor, settling on hair just as red - if not more - than hers.

The woman had ivory skin, soft and smooth, and even though most weren't able to see it - a scar on her shoulder. It always fascinated her on how her mother was so strong. Her father said that her mother was stronger than him… even _with _his sturdy muscles and tall stature. Her white dress touched the floor, making her appear as if she were floating when the little girl could not spot her feel moving as she made her way toward them. Walking next to her was a boy - tall for his age with hair as dark as the night sky. Just three years older than the little girl but he still called himself the man of the house when their father wasn't around. When the woman was close enough, she outstretched her toned arms.

"And to Mommy you go." Her father laughed, passing the three year old into her mother's arms. Her mother smelled of sugary; probably from the cake they had recently eaten. _Cake, _she thought to herself, wanting more of the red velvet.

"You did _so good, _Gianna! I hope Daddy didn't make you dizzy, though." Her mother laughed as her daughter clung to her in the same way she did her father. The man in question ran a hand through his shining hair, pretending to take her chiding lightly despite his reddened face.

"Gianna say: Daddy and I were just having _fun_, and you did the same with Andrew!" He chuckled. Gianna Herondale didn't know what to do besides bury her nose deeper into her mother fragrant neck and hope the two sorted out the deadlock. After all, it was there wedding. There was no going back. That's what Andrew had announced for the past few months. So… did that mean they'd spend the rest of their lives together? With just each other? What if they got bored like Gianna did when she spent too much time playing with the same time. "Sorry, Babe." Her father apologized sheepishly, to which her mother leaned in and kissed him, careful of the three year old that she held against her hip.

"Hey, let's not have you guys get started on baby number _five_." A familiar voice laughed. Gianna craned her neck to see her aunt Charlotte, walking besides her uncle Henry- each of them holding onto two strawberry blond children. One in a lilac dress, the other desperate to get out of his black suit and tie that was the length of his small torso. The only thing they shared - besides parents - being birthdays.

"I wanna dance with Da!" The girl - Lilia - stomped as if it were some great injustice. Her father squatted to her level, opening his arms wide for her to run into while her brother - Teddy - tugged on his mother's dress, begging to replace Gianna in her arms.

"Woah, did I just hear baby talk?" A silvery blond asked as he approached the group, a lovely brunnette at his side. "You don't want to jinx the bride, Charlotte." He scolded before his sister smacked him on the back of the head, gesturing to the slight bump on her stomach. "Sorry!" He snapped, rubbing his head with a scowl aimed at Charlotte.

"Can you believe you guys are _finally _getting married! The couple to have kids first, gets married last!" Rebecca gushed, holding onto Jonathan's bicep. "We shoulda done this! Tell me, why did we elope?" She said with a wanting look as she gazed up at the decorated columns and lavish flowers.

"Hey, I told you, we weren't having my son without a ring on that pretty finger." He smiled, kissing her cheek. She nodded, humming in agreement. Gianna scrunched her nose up at the display of affection, doing it harder when her brother began to wail after being ignored. She was soon placed on the floor - then up in someone else's arms soon after. "We're not turning into Simon and Isabelle." He said in a gravelly voice that wasn't soft enough for the group to miss out on.

What was with everyone and weddings?

* * *

"Wow… we're married." Clary concluded to Jace, looking out at Andrew teaching Lilia how to twirl around like her not-so-older sister. Alec and Magnus were busy bottle feeding their six month old son, William. She told them it was okay if they didn't want to go to the wedding, with having to carry around a baby and all, but Magnus wasn't going to skip out on a wedding that was three years overdue. Honestly, she didn't know how to answer him without bringing back the birth of her second born daughter.

Labor had nearly killed her. Nearly took away her baby. But, somehow, she pulled through, and in the end was given the gift of her daughter she couldn't imagine life without. Though, she knew what it felt like to lose a child. Jace had taken fatherhood with ease. Well, as in he loved his daughter unconditionally enough to change her diaper without a word of protest. Other things like coping with the fact that she'd be undeniably beautiful when she was older took some time to get used to. Clary wondered how someone who was a carbon copy of her could look gorgeous, as she herself was no such thing.

Things were good for a while. They had adopted Andrew, moved apartments with the raise Jace had gotten. Rebecca and Jonathan confessed that they were expecting a little one of their own. Simon didn't find it amusing how taking account of her weeks pregnant meant that she conceived around the time she arrived in New York. Isabelle had to hold him down when the couple later announced that they had eloped.

It was on Clary's six week checkup that she was told that she was expecting. Again. All that fear of labor was only heightened when an ultrasound revealed her to be having _twins. _She refused to let Jace touch her for a week, angered that they had been stupid enough to trust breastfeeding as a birth control. Though, deep down she was afraid to admit that she was replacing her old family. Jace had asked her if she would like to get married before the twins were born, and she worried that something bad would happen. As if marrying him would cause a streak of unlucky events like it had when she was with Sebastian.

Still, she didn't reject him when he proposed.

Three years and three kids later, they were _finally _getting married. Those around her had started families of their own. Married, and happy at last. And now she was able to join them in their blissfulness. Watching Gianna dance with Jace only proved that she was making the right decision. That she hadn't given her family bad luck as she had done the last one. Despite her lack of faith, she believed that, somewhere, perhaps from above, were her Beth and Sebastian Jr. protecting their half-siblings. At rest and accepting of their mother's choice in men.

Though she still missed them terribly, had dreams that consisted of them and their younger siblings, she was able to come to terms with her past. Get over that guilt that had hovered over her like a looming cloud.

"You're not having regrets, right?" Jace said with a laugh that didn't agree with his worried gaze. Clary shook her head, leaning it against his shoulder afterwards.

"No, just… I feel _weird. _Like, all of the things that happened led us to this moment. Led me to _you_." She admitted softly, sensing one of Jace's strong arms wrap around her shoulder.

"I couldn't agree more." Jace responded, looking out upon their family. At his adoptive siblings, nieces and nephews. Brother in law, to the grandmother of his children. His past was no better, no worse than Clary's, and he agreed with her statement. If his parents hadn't given him up to the Lightwood's, if he hadn't suffered an injury to the shoulder, been honorably discharged from the military and suffered from PTSD, struggled with alcohol abuse, forced into treatment by his mother, then handed in a freshly printed resume to the police department… well, then they wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have been the rookie who took a tour with his future wife, helped her recover from a gunshot wound. If not, he'd be a long way from recovery. A long way from seeing their little Gianna.

Yes, he couldn't have _possibly _agreed more.

**_~Rookie~_**

* * *

**AN: And that's a wrap! Thirty six chapters and I'm happy to mark this story complete. It's sorta sad that it's over, but I couldn't have ended this fic on a pleasanter note. Thanks to all of you who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story! It means so much that you took the time to get to know the characters and stuck with each's crazy dilemmas. **


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